


Heir Apparent

by hunkamunka144



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:39:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 107,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunkamunka144/pseuds/hunkamunka144
Summary: AU - Queen BrienneShow Verse





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This all began on the JB Online Forum. If you have never been, I highly recommend it for all things Jaime and Brienne. The people there are wonderful, and it is the ultimate when it comes to insights into all things JB.
> 
> The story was inspired when it was brought up that Brienne could be Queen of Westeros. It takes place at the end of season 6. I had started this around May of 2016 and have updated it somewhat to reflect that season.
> 
> Though this had been a blast to write, I hit a snag from writer's block and all that fun stuff last year. Then slowly got back in the grove and wrote on and off it for the past few months. 
> 
> Obviously, it is total AU, so I have taken quite a few liberties with the story regarding the Battle of the Bastards and who is dead and still alive down at King’s Landing. Hopefully, it all makes sense.
> 
> Alas, this has not been beta’d, so my apologies for any glaring errors in grammar and story. Please let me know if so and I will try to either correct the chapter or address it in the following chapter. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Any comments and kudos are always deeply appreciated! Helps motivate me in wonderful ways ;-)
> 
> Thanks!

With her arduous pledge to get Sansa Stark safely back at Winterfell completed, Brienne and Podrick rode south through the Riverlands to start a new adventure. Their last stop was to be at King’s Landing. Fulfilling her oath up North had nearly cost her life, and now Brienne wanted to follow up on a more personal matter before she figured out their next course of action. 

Being lost in thought, Brienne was startled when they had come across a large party of King’s Landing soldiers. She had hoped that when they spied her sword’s pommel, they would know she was an ally to Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 

That appeared not to be the case as the garrison had quickly surrounded them. Instantly on alert, Brienne had drawn her famous sword and readied herself.

The Captain of the guard had studied her momentarily, and a grin of relief appeared. Signaling to the others, the group of knights and soldiers dismounted and all dropped to their knees in reverence.

“My Lady,” The burly Captain before her said as he bowed his head respectfully.

Brienne lowered Oathkeeper and peered down at the man in surprise. “What is the meaning of this? Who are you?” Brienne asked, stunned. No one had ever shown her such an honor. It was always some sarcastic remark, insult or threat instead.

“I am Captain Starling, and I have been sent to find you.” He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Lady Brienne, it is with great sorrow that I must inform you that the King is dead.” 

Brienne instantly thought of Jaime and how broken he must have felt. Recently on her travels south, she had heard that his daughter Myrcella had arrived back from Dorne, dead. And now his last son was in the grave. She sent a silent prayer to the Seven to give support to her friend.

“That is indeed terrible news.” During her time in King’s Landing, she had only met Tommen once. He was a sweet lad who enjoyed playing with kittens. He was nothing like his horrible brother Joffrey. She had had high hopes that the realm would be in better standings with the younger boy as King.

Still, she wondered why she had been sought out. Maybe Jaime needed her now more than ever, she thought distractedly.

As if reading her expression, the Captain said, “Per the Lord Commander of the Kingsguards orders, we are to escort you to King’s Landing.”

Brienne nodded, thinking that the man responsible for her past quest must have heard that she had been successful in positioning Lady Sansa Stark back in power at Winterfell and was on the road. Good, then maybe Jaime needed her for another task. That would be a perfect opportunity for her to talk to him about her feelings. Her dealings up North had changed her in many ways. One was a reminder that time was no longer a luxury to squander.

A small smile quirked her lips, and she wondered if maybe he wanted something more from her as well, perhaps of a personal request. Brienne then automatically derided herself for believing such things. Like her initial affections for Renly, she doubted her feelings towards Jaime were reciprocal. But she still needed to know for sure. When they had met in Riverrun months ago as he dealt with the Blackfish, there had seemed to be an undercurrent of… something between them both. 

“May I inquire as to the reason I am being summoned?” She figured her curious nature couldn’t last the entire journey without having some inkling as to what Jaime wanted from her.

The Captain cleared his throat, “My Lady, you are the next in line to take the throne. The high council has decreed that you are to be the Queen of Westeros.”

Brienne nearly fell off her horse. It was the eavesdropping Podrick who did, though.

*

With a garrison of soldiers around them, they rode to King’s Landing. Brienne’s mind was whirling as to what she had been told. 

Close by, Podrick nursed a headache, but he continued to keep a sharp eye on her. 

Brienne briefly wondered why Jaime hadn’t ridden out for her himself, but then as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he would have a lot to take care of back at King’s Landing. Still, she missed his supportive presence. Even though at times he annoyed her from his teasing, she at least knew he would never deceive her.

 

Finally, she had to ask the Captain, “But how is this possible? Cersei Lannister should be next in line for the throne.”

The Captain shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “It was the Queen mother who killed her son, my lady.”

‘No,’ Brienne thought, ‘that is impossible, she loved her children. Granted, Cersei was a calculating viper, but the woman would do anything to protect her children.’

“Explain.” She asked instead of voicing her doubts.

“Not much has been divulged to the public, only that the King had visited Cersei that fateful day. Later they were both found dead. The Maester believed it was poison.”  
“But why?” There had to be more to the story.

Making his voice low so only she could hear, the Captain confided, “The King’s wife, Margaery had been mysteriously killed earlier that week. King Tommen suspected treason and demanded answers. Upon investigation, it was found that the ex Maester Qyburn was somehow involved.” He checked to see if she knew who he was talking about.

Brienne dipped her head curtly to indicate that she very well knew that man and his reputation. The Captain continued, “Under questioning, he revealed that he had been ordered by the Queen mother to poison Margaery.” He took a deep breath as if to dispel that distaste from his lungs. 

She stared incredulously at him, and the Captain nodded his head, signifying to Brienne that it was true. “The King could not torture his mother for the truth and instead had her locked away. Days later, he was told that his mother was acting oddly, and he went to talk to her in hope for answers. In her growing unbalance, it is believed that Cersei had somehow poisoned him and herself.”

Scowling, Brienne glanced over at Podrick, who shrugged in response. The warrior maid turned to the Captain, “Poor Ser Jaime, how is he taking his…err, their deaths?”

She almost cursed out loud. In her haste to find out how her friend was doing, she had nearly revealed Jaime’s families dirty secret. If the Captain had heard the rumors of incest and Lannister bastard’s for King’s, he played dumb. “He is beating himself up for allowing any of this to happen.”

Brienne nodded glumly. Her heart once more squeezed painfully in sorrow for what her friend must be going through. That still left a crucial question. “Frankly, I do not understand how I am next in line of succession.”

There was a slight tone of hesitancy in his voice, “My lady, word has come to us of Stannis Baratheon’s death.”

Brienne hid her triumphant grin over that news. Then frowning, she asked, “But what of his daughter, Shireen. Though a child, she is still next in line of succession.”

Now he was grim, “My lady, the child was burned by her father.”

Brienne suddenly halted her horse, causing the others in the party to do so. “He what?” She grounded aghast between her teeth. 

The Captain nodded quickly, “He burned her months ago.” 

At her time up North, Brienne had felt remorseful that she had chosen to kill Stannis and not kept a more watchful eye out for Sansa Stark’s escape from Winterfell. Though thankfully all had worked out with Sansa being rescued by her, Brienne now wondered if she should have sought out Stannis sooner. At least then perhaps his child would still be alive. She ruefully shook her head; she had to stop putting these impossible situations on her broad shoulders.

The Captain continued, “After studying the historical books, the Maesters had traced the Baratheon line. Most had died out, but then it was discovered that House Tarth has ties to the Baratheon’s and the Targaryen’s.”

Brienne had heard of such tales growing up but had always believed them to be prideful boastings from her father. Desperate, she reasoned, “But surely there is someone else, my father, perhaps.” Guiltily she thought of him, and she hoped he was alright. She had planned to send a message to him soon to let him know that she lived.

“My lady, your father is old and not in the best of health.” Seeing her look of concern, he amended, “He is alright, but believes that you are a better choice to rule and the council agreed.”

Brienne cursed, she could not believe her luck. Knowing that her father had always wished for her to settle down, she spat out, “You mean until I marry and can produce an heir.” Westeros never had a female ruler, let alone an unmarried one at that. She was sure it would be expected of her to focus on continuing the lineage and letting her husband rule. The thought of claiming Jaime pleasantly rolled through her mind, but she squashed it down.

The Captain shrugged and waited for any further questions.

Brienne shook her head, “Thank you, Captain. If you do not mind, I wish to mull over what you have told me.”

“Then if my Lady would excuse me.” Slightly bowing from his perch, the man nudged his horse and trotted towards the front of the retinue.

Podrick leaned closer to her, “My lady, are you alright?” He had noticed that her normal pale features were appearing closer to grey now. 

She nodded vigorously in the hope that the action would wake her from this nightmare. “I cannot be the ruler of Westeros,” she hissed to her squire. “I never wanted such a thing. I am a fighter, not someone who sits around all day, dealing with petty nobles and cutthroat politics.”

Podrick’s eyes became huge, “But my Lady, think of all the good you could do.”

She snorted. She might not be courtly, but she knew enough about politics not to be so naïve. “You know what court life is really like, Podrick.”

Concerned, Podrick nodded to the burly Captain ahead. “Then what do you propose, my lady?”

She surreptitiously studied the guards who surrounded them. Once more she leaned close to her confidant, “Tonight, we will sneak off.”

“And go where my lady? Most might not know of your new position, but that will not last long. More will certainly hunt for you then.”

She grinned large, “Well, I did mention to Lady Sansa that we might go look for Arya. Last I heard there was talk that the girl was in Braavos.”

Podrick did a sharp inhale. He had no wish to go overseas, but he was pledged to help the woman next to him. 

Brienne studied her squire, “I have long said that you are free to do as you bid, Podrick. You do not need to trouble yourself by going with me.”

Podrick shook his head. “I will not leave you, my lady.”

She exhaled pleased. She had grown to like his silent, supportive partnership, and he had certainly elevated himself into being a better squire. But still, she could not ask so much of him. “You could stay in Maiden Pool. You would be safe there. You are a good squire, and any Knight would be a better man with you at his side.”

The young man preened at her compliment. He had worked hard to better himself, and he owed much to the woman riding next to him. It was that allegiance and his stubbornness that had him shaking his head. “No, my lady. I would prefer to stay by your side.”

“Good,” she grinned toothily. “Tonight, sneak off and take our horses and as many provisions as you can pack on them. I will seek you out, and then we leave.”

He nodded curtly, a small grin spreading across his lips. Honestly, he had no wish to go back to King’s Landing. He had a feeling that there were still some that associated him with his last Lord, Tyrion Lannister and that would be dangerous. Impishly he stated, “As your Grace commands.”

The stink eye from her glare wiped the smirk right off his face.

*

A few hours later, it was becoming dusk. The Captain halted their group and camp was soon made in a clearing near the main road. After eating the rather good fare presented to her, Brienne listened to further news about King’s Landing in hopes of gleaning more information about Jaime. 

Quietly, the Captain sadly told her more about the King’s demise and things that lead up to it. He explained, “In retribution for the humiliation that the Faith Militant had put her through, Cersei ordered Robert the Strong to kill all their devout. Alas, during his rampage, innocents got murdered by mistake.” Though the Captain did not get into how powerful that religious group had been in influencing the King, how he said their designation made Brienne realize how worrisome they had been to those nearest the Crown.

After a deep exhale, he continued, “Queen Margerey protested this murderous spree to Cersei, but was soon found dead.” He became silent, and the fire sparked high into the night when he tossed another log onto it. The young Thorn had been most beloved by the citizens, and he obviously was also enraptured. Brienne did not doubt that the always jealous Cersei would not be blind to such devotion.

Dangerous politics aside, Brienne could never see herself beloved nor rejoiced by the people. This only reminded her that the sooner they got away, the better.

When the silence became palpable, Brienne said, “Well, it has been quite the day. Is there a spot that I am to sleep on?” She eyed the ground nearest the fire.

The Captain snapped out of his thoughts and smiled, “The ground? My lady, please if you would follow me.”

Curious she rose and trailed behind him as he led her further from the warmth of the flames. She stuttered her step as they approached a large bulky object that was in the middle of the camp.

Embarrassed, Brienne had been given a pavilion to sleep in. It was sapphire blue, as to reflect her House colors. She had a feeling Jaime had insisted on this.

Entering the vast tent, the lit braziers took away the chill that had already settled in the air. Though a child of the balmy Stormlands, she had gotten used to the cold up North. She thought of Lady Sansa and Jon Snow and the adventures that they had had up there. A grin of determination creased her usual dour features.

Before she had left, Jon had warned her of creatures that were dead and some that were made of ice. He hoped that she could get word to others who might be able to do something about it and she had originally planned to tell Jaime. If she had not seen a shadow kill Renly, she might not have believed Jon’s fanciful stories. She wondered if maybe she should go to King’s Landing after all to rule. She would be one of the few in power who could try to stop this threat from up North. Sighing loudly she sat down on her cot and mulled it over once more.

Podrick then entered the tent. Grimly she looked to him, her decision made. As he deftly removed her armor, she grumbled from the guilt she felt at leaving those who depended on her behind. But there was no way she could ever navigate court life to benefit the North and the thought of being forced to marry made her grind her teeth.

Finished, Podrick carefully gauged her features. She nodded. “Yes, we stick to the plan.” 

He bowed, and she nearly hit him. She hated being treated like that.

Coughing over his smirk, the young man then left to do as she had bided.

Lying down on her cot, Brienne tried to get comfortable. She had become so used to sleeping on the ground that it seemed impossible to relax now. No matter, she thought, soon they would once more be on the road and back to sleeping on the hard earth. Even at Winterfell, she had found the beds too soft.

Her drifting thoughts once again turned to Jaime. She wondered what he was up to, and hoped her friend was holding up after such devastating news about his last child. 

She vowed that once they got to a safe place, she could send a message to Jaime. She would give her heartfelt condolences for his loss and then apologize for running away from her duty. She would also warn him of the White Walker danger. He would believe her. He believed her enough about how Renly died. Or more likely he trusted in her and her honor.

She knew as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Jaime could never be made King. Frankly, she thought he would be very good at it. She hoped that since there had been other precedence’s in regards to the Kingsguard, that maybe they could change the rules and make him King in her place. 

Guilt once more bombarded her mind. She had been given a chance to make good in the world, but to her, it was a tight yoke, that already felt like it was choking her. She was not made for such; she reminded herself. She was better at fighting, not leading. She hoped Jaime would forgive her.

Even with all these tumultuous thoughts and a too comfortable cot under her, she still managed to fall asleep.

*

A few hours later, she woke up with a start. Disorientated, Brienne glanced around the tent, groping for Oathkeeper. Feeling the cool steel of the ornate pommel settle in her grasp, she quickly relaxed, her mind suddenly recalling her current situation.

Cursing, she leaped out of bed. Hastily, she donned her armor and wrapped Oathkeeper’s belt around her middle. As she rushed out of the pavilion, she ran right into the Captain, who had been guarding the entrance.

“My lady, this is a surprise.” But there was a knowing glint in his eye that stated otherwise. “How can I be of service?”

“Um,” she stammered. She had never been quick with a lie. “I was looking for the privy.”

He nodded knowingly. “Ah, well there is a pot in your pavilion.” He eyed her apparel, “Though I do not see why you would need to don your armor and sword. I assure you, no one here has any wish to harm you.” His tone belayed that he knew the true nature of her venture.

‘No, you all just wish to keep me from escaping.’ She thought. It was the only reason she would have the highest ranking soldier guarding the pavilions entry.

Irritated that her plan was so easily foiled, she grated out, “Actually, I could do with some air.”

“Naturally, my lady.” He signaled over more guards. “Lead the way.”

Now she was getting embarrassed over all this fuss. “I assure you, I do not need anyone to guard me.”

“On the contrary, my lady.” The Captain solemnly stated, “There are bandits out there.” He cheekily added, “And Ser Jaime was concerned that you might take it upon yourself to wander off. He mentioned that you tended to do so.”

She internally cursed. When she saw that infernal man, she would let him know what she thought of his concerns. Making herself calm down, she wondered if maybe Jaime did care for her more after all. ‘No,’ she reminded herself, ‘more likely he would rather not have the leadership thrust upon his shoulders.’ Like her, he had no wish to be in power.

“I wanted to find my squire,” she replied lamely.

The knight barely hid his grin from her. “My lady, he is not asleep in your pavilion?”

She took in a deep inhale of breath and was about to explain. 

With a motion from the Captain, Podrick was escorted over to them. “Ah, there he is. It seems he had been tending to your horses.” He turned his attention to the squire. “Please be assured young Podrick, your role is to guard your lady, so there is no need for you to look after your horses anymore. There are others to fulfill that job now.”

Brienne realized that they were once more penned in as the guards hovered around them. The message was clear; they were not to leave.

The Captain innocently inquired, “Was there anything else you needed, my lady?”

She figured that he damn well knew this whole thing had been a ruse, but obviously, he would never say anything out loud about it.

“No, that is fine, Captain.” She turned and stalked into her pavilion. Podrick was close on her heels. She eyed the other side of her tent and moved over towards it.

She was about to cut a hole through the fabric but then heard the sound of bored soldiers standing sentry on the other side. It appeared as if Jaime had told them quite a bit about her resourcefulness after all.

“Now what, my lady?” Podrick whispered.

Brienne shook her head. Resigned, she sat on her cot. “I do not know. Maybe as we ride tomorrow, we can make a break for it.” With a dip of her head, Podrick came over and once more removed her armor. 

Soon she was lying on the cot, but instead of her thoughts mulling over the fear of ruling, they settled peacefully on Jaime. She recalled the sad smile they had shared as Podrick rowed them away from Riverrun. Yawning, she shut her eyes and hoped to dream of more pleasant times.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for such wonderful support! I swear this is the best fandom anywhere!
> 
> And sorry, I should have put a link to that awesome JB Board, so here it is: http://w11.zetaboards.com/Jaime_x_Brienne/index/

The small garrison had been riding for some time through the Riverlands. The afternoon was getting warmer, and there seemed to be a lull throughout the countryside. As their horses trotted over the hill, Brienne took in the ravages that scarred the land. The War of the Five Kings had been so costly. She sighed once more, thinking even if she did become Queen; the amount of work that needed to be accomplished was too daunting.

Soon they entered a dark forest, and Brienne thought this would be a perfect place to lose her keepers. She cast a side-eye to Podrick, and he lightly nodded to indicate he was ready whenever she was.

Brienne was about to order a halt for a rest when the Captain suddenly stopped. He seemed to be frowning at something in the nearby trees. He raised his hand to signal when an arrow slammed into his forearm, and he cried out from the pain.

Pandemonium suddenly erupted around them as bandits poured out from the surrounding woods like enraged bees.

Instantly, swords were out as the guards defended Brienne and they tried to drive back the outlaws. More arrows flew, and a nearby soldier fell from his horse. Brienne saw her chance and kicked her horse’s flanks, and off she galloped, away from the fray. There were far more soldiers than bandits Brienne reasoned, and she figured they could easily look after themselves.

She turned to make sure Podrick followed but saw that his mouth was a gaped as he stared at a dog helmed man wearing a ragged yellow cloak galloping towards him.

Brienne quickly turned her horse around as the large armored man now bored down on Podrick. Her squire barely raised his weapon in time to deflect the heavy sword blow.

She yelled her guttural battle cry and charged the helmed man. Instantly she was attacking him; her strikes well met as she swung Oathkeeper repeatedly.

Finally, he got in a hit, punching her in the face with the pommel of his sword, and Brienne fell from her horse. Before he could slash down and kill her, she desperately lunged herself at him and managed to knock him off his saddle. Outraged, she once more pounced, using her sword more as a bludgeoning tool than as a weapon. 

Finally, her last strike could not be defended, and her sword cut deep into the yellow cloaked man’s neck. Blood shot out, and he died with a muffled curse on his breath.

Podrick yelled a warning, and she pivoted just in time to block a hit that would have taken off her head. She dodged the next swing and then slashed upwards with Oathkeeper, the valyrian steel cutting easily through the bandit’s mismatched chainmail. He made a startled gasp as he crumbled to the ground unmoving.

Spinning, Brienne’s gaze took in the fighting. She found Podrick nearby and watched as he fought a smaller man in ratty clothes. After making sure her squire had finished him off, Brienne waded further into battle. 

She would have run, but there were too many to escape from as more outlaws raced from the forest to confront them. Besides, she couldn’t do that when others needed her, that was not her way. Cursing, she let her frustration add strength to her hits, and she killed another brigand. 

Brienne turned to fight the next charging outlaw. Side-stepping his swung ax, she then whirled around the bandit and hacked down his leather covered back. He died with a gurgle.

An arrow suddenly flew at her, the tip just close enough to leave a shallow cut on her cheek. Hissing, she threw herself to the ground just as another arrow stabbed into the dirt by her head. Groping the leaf covered floor by a dead outlaw beside her, her left hand found the ax. As she scrambled to her feet, she snatched it up and raced towards the archer, her face fierce and enraged. She knew the image she projected of a hulking brute hefting Oathkeeper in one hand and an ax in the other would make this assailant pale. True enough, the man panicked, and his next shot went wide, hitting a tree.

It was cumbersome in her armor as she ran forward, but Brienne hurled the ax left-handed, her intent to distract. The weapon’s tip sliced across the man’s arm, causing him to drop his bow.

Brienne then slammed into his body, her armored weight bearing them both down. He wheezed and was knocked out when his head banged onto the ground.

She started to stand when suddenly, someone jumped onto her back, and the heavy weight forced her back to the ground. Wildly, she threw her arms back, trying to knock off the man who now grabbed tightly onto her. Roaring, she put all her strength into rising to her feet. Soon she was stooped over, but she still could not reach the man who held firm. Brienne heard a yelp as the bandit suddenly found himself being swung around as she spun, trying to shake the man free.

She barely saw the glint of sunlight off the dagger in time as it was raised to puncture her neck. Without a thought, she threw herself backward into a tree, slamming hard against it. The man ‘oooffed’ and let go. Now hunched behind her, he slashed desperately, and his small blade raked ineffectually along her armor. But his luck turned for he found a crease between the metal plates and shoved the small weapon into her back.

Too enraged to feel it, Brienne’s elbow suddenly connected with the man’s face, breaking his jaw. She staggered as she turned and then sliced downwards with her valyrian blade, killing the stunned man. Fleetingly, she tried, but could not reach the small blade that was stuck in her back. Instead of stopping to recover, she gripped Oathkeeper tighter and once more joined the others in battle.

Brienne found once more that it was true what they said about fighting. Time does happen differently. What seemed like minutes to her was actually over an hour, but finally, the few remaining bandits scurried off and once more disappeared into the forest where they had come from.

Exhausted, Brienne sat down, wincing as she began to feel the pain and soreness from her accrued injuries. Glancing around the area, she saw that the surviving guards were tying up those bandits who still lived. The one healer among them helped those of their own who were wounded.

Her eyes continued to track the scene, and she saw that Podrick was alright. It seemed he had only received a small cut to his arm. She was relieved that all their hard work and training had paid off. 

Podrick noticed her looking his way and frowned. Quickly he raced to her and studied her wane, pale features. “My lady, are you alright?”

She winced as she waved him off. She had forgotten about the blade in her back until she had done that.

Noticing her grimace, he then saw the embedded weapon and blanched.

“It is alright, Podrick. It is not as deep as it looks.” Still, he did not believe her, and he motioned her to lie on her side. With a grunt, she did so he would have better access to study her wound. Between gritted teeth, as he poked around her wound, she asked, “Why did you stop following me?”

Podrick grabbed a cloth from one of his pockets and placed it close to the dagger's edge, applying pressure. “That man in the yellow cloak, he was wearing the Hound’s helm.”

She hissed more from his words than his actions. “That is not possible; I killed the Hound.”

Chagrinned, Podrick shrugged, “That might be one of the reasons why I froze.” He then shyly added, “Thank you for saving me, my lady.”

Growling through clenched teeth as he carefully pulled the dagger free, “I obviously could not leave you like that.” He pushed the cloth hard against her wound, and she groaned.

As Podrick secured the bandage under her armor, the Captain staggered over to them. He was a bit pale, and his arm was in a sling after having the arrow removed. “My lady, you are hurt.” He seemed embarrassed that this had happened to her on his watch.

Instead of acknowledging the comment, she asked, “Do we know who they were?”

“The ones that lived confessed that they were part of the Brotherhood without Banners.” The Captain sounded as if this was a known problem. 

Brienne spied a young boy among the bodies of the dead bandits. 

Catching what her gaze rested upon, the Captain sullenly added, “After the war, most of the smallfolk were left with nothing. Many throughout the land had no choice but to take arms and steal to survive.”

She frowned at his words. She had not realized that being up North had removed her from the many problems down South. 

He cast a wary eye as he further studied her. Podrick was now dabbing at her bloodied cheek, and she hissed at the pain as well as realizing they could not run away now. It seemed that things were worse among the Kingdom than she initially feared. Regardless of what she wanted, her honor demanded that she help the young and the weak. It was one thing if it was just her being affected, but when innocents were involved, she had to do something, it was her way.

Dreading what she must do, she would have no choice but to accept her new role as Queen if she was to do her proper duty. But Brienne doubted that she would be able to fix all this on her own. She hoped that Jaime would help advise her. Maybe between the two of them, they could do some good. 

Brienne then registered the bodies being dragged to a pile. If she was to be Queen, it was best if she started it properly. Turning to the Captain, she ordered, “Any prisoners, I want to be brought to King’s Landing for further questioning. As for the dead Brotherhood, bury them. I take it you wish to bring our dead back with us?”

The Captain glumly nodded. She bobbed her head back at him, just as morose. “Then do so. Now help me up,” she commanded.

Each took an arm and helped her to her feet. Even with the ache in her back, she hobbled around the camp, giving encouragement to the wounded and those who worked to get them prepared to ride. She had seen Renly do this after all the mock battles and felt it was the least she could do for her men.

Surprisingly, the guards appreciated her words of comfort and support. A few even had a pleased grin on their faces after she had moved on to others. It felt odd at first for her to get such a reaction, but she was grateful to provide some ease to them.

When the wound in her back began to throb worse, Podrick pulled her aside to rest against a tree. As those around her finished preparations to go, she closed her eyes. She swore it was just to rest them.

*

Brienne awoke to the sound of horses trotting next to her. She blurrily opened her eyes to see the low sunlight filtering through the trees above as she passed slowly under them.

The steady throb from her injured back reminded her of what had happened, and she groaned as she sat up. Her armor had been removed, so she was in trousers and under tunic. Confused by her surroundings, she then realized that she was on some bedding in the back of the supply cart.

She registered Podrick riding beside her. Seeing that she was awake, he panicked, “My lady, you need to lie back down.”

“I told you it was not very deep.” But to her, it felt as if the dagger had gone through to her chest, and she reluctantly leaned back. He then handed her a half-full bladder, and she drank deep from it. The water was cooler than she thought it should be. Then in the distance, she heard a raging river. “Where are we? How long was I out?”

Podrick took the container back from her and answered, “We are nearing King’s Landing. You had been out for only a few hours. The healer said the wound was deeper than we thought, but the blood loss was minimal.”

Tiredly she nodded. “How soon until we reach King’s Landing?”

“The Captain says we should get there by tomorrow afternoon.” 

She dipped her head, “Good. Where is my horse?”

Knowing where this was going, Podrick would not answer that question. “The healer said you are to rest in the cart until we get there.”

“I am not some fair maiden Podrick. Now, where is my horse?” She grimaced when she grabbed her armor, planning to put it on herself if she had to.

Her raised voice alerted the Captain that she was up, and he led his horse over to her. “Ah, good you are awake, my lady.”

Her armor felt heavy in her grasp, and she dropped it in her lap. She glanced up at him, squinting against the bright filtered sunlight. “Captain, how do we fair?”

“We lost a third of our men.” He then coughed into his shoulder, and added, “But we would have lost more if you had not come back.”

His admittance to her near escape made her shrink back a bit. Then realizing that she was the one in power, she decided to ignore his words. “I am sorry we had lost that many.”

The Captain nodded gruffly in agreement. His eyes widened as she began to struggle into her armor. “My lady, it is best if you rest. That was a nasty injury.”

“And I have been through worse before. Now either help me or leave.”

Her stubbornness must have been legendary for the Captain wisely slowed his horse and was soon gone from her view. She glared at Podrick, who was now whistling an aimless tune. At least it wasn’t that accursed song that seemed to follow her around like flies on excrement; she thought grumpily. ‘Bear and the Maiden Fair’ seemed to exist for only her mortification now.

Realizing how tired she was, Brienne loudly sighed. The thought of dunning her heavy armor by herself and then sitting on a horse was not as appealing to her body as her obstinate mind had thought it should be.

Settling back onto the bedding, she allowed herself to close her eyes and once more she drifted asleep.

This time, she awoke to camp being set up nearby. Though those around her tried to keep things quiet, that was impossible to do. With a pained exhale, she forced herself to sit up. It took a moment, but she realized that she felt better than she did earlier. And that she was starving. The cooks had been busy, and the smell of roasted meat gave her motivation to scoot herself to the edge of the open cart bed. Her long legs dangled over the edge and she cautiously stretched.

The wound in her back reminded her to take it slow. Thankfully it did not seem as bad as she first feared. She could not believe how her body ached, and she grimaced as it brought back memories of helping the Starks retake Winterfell from the Bolton’s, and how she had felt during her recuperation from the serious wounds she had received for her service.

Knowing that she could not stay there reminiscing all night, she slid from the cart and rested her feet solidly on the ground. That was when she noticed the two guards who had been standing sentry by the cart. They eyed her dutifully but did not move towards her to help. At least they knew her well enough not to coddle her. She had a feeling her squire had warned them.

Nodding cordially at her, they waited for her next move. 

With a wince, she began to amble towards the sound of talking, her two guards moving behind her at a respectful distance.

The night was descending fast, and she headed to the large fire that was raging in a nearby clearing. 

The Captain and others were seated around the campfire, listening as Podrick regaled them with her battle against the Hound. Internally she groaned at his embellishments, but then he had been proud of how she had stood toe to toe against that mighty fighter. 

She gauged the soldiers and their reactions, surprised that they were held enraptured by the tale. 

Podrick quieted and lurched to his feet when he spied her approaching them. “My lady, please have a seat, and I will get you your dinner.”

As she carefully sat down, Podrick would not look her in the eye. The glare aimed her squire's way was not lost on anyone, and he quickly darted off to retrieve her food. 

The Captain glanced at her and smiled, “That was an amazing tale, my lady. Please do not be upset with the lad. Many of us were impressed with your fighting abilities from this afternoon and had pressed upon him to share tales of your journey.”

“Then you must know that he sees it from a young man’s eyes. It was not as glorious as he makes it out to be.”

“No, my lady. We understand. Still to beat the Hound, that was quite the achievement.”

Brienne only nodded and took in those who hovered close around the fire; their grinning features directed her way. She hoped they did not expect her to tell them anything else. 

Many of her stories could be construed as treason should she reveal her other adventures up North. From the killing of Stannis to helping Lady Sansa reclaim her rightful home at Winterfell, many might interpret it as traitorous actions.

Instead, she turned the attention elsewhere. “Tell me,” she asked the Captain, “have you heard of something called the White Walkers?”

The Captain cocked his head to the side as if expecting her to add to the inquiry. Realizing that was her question, he shook his head. “No, my lady. What are they?”

“Supposedly they are worse than anything that we have ever come across.” She looked among the men who stared at her expectantly. “It was just something I had heard on my travels up North.”

The knights and soldiers shook their heads in answer.

One of the younger soldiers piped in, “My lady, is it true that Jon Snow came back from the dead? That he leads Lady Sansa Stark’s troops on the back of his giant dire wolf?” 

She smiled at the thought of the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch riding atop Ghost. “No, he sits on his horse like any other in battle. And I was told that his death had been exaggerated and that he is normal as you or I.”

They nodded in relief. She did not understand where such stories came from. But she was concerned that Jon’s resurrection was known. But then, hopefully, such a tale would keep others from trying to attack the Starks. Maybe by her being in power, or some form of it (Brienne was a realist after all), could be beneficial in more ways than one to her allies up North.

Her ruminations were interrupted when Podrick handed her a plate of food. As she ate, the soldiers told their tales. They all shared a good laugh at the funny anecdotes spoken by others.

Still exhausted from her fight, she stayed as long as she could, relishing in the acceptance of the other men. Only up North had she been granted such a boon, and even then it had taken much to prove her worthy of it.

When it was time, she reluctantly rose, “I’m afraid I must be excused. Thank you all for a pleasant evening. Until the morrow, then.”

The men rose and bowed graciously to her. Left unspoken was their gratitude for her coming to their aid, and they hoped that their respect towards her was apparent. They watched as she slowly made her way to her pavilion, her two guards and Podrick followed nearby should she need any help.

Finally reaching her tent, Brienne entered and crawled onto her cot. Resting her head on her pillow, she had never thought anything could feel so good in all her life and quickly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is what I know you all want ;-) 
> 
> Reunion!


	3. Chapter 3

They were not kidding about the memorable smell. The pungent aroma wafted upon them as the sea breeze blew through King’s Landing proper. With the stench assaulting her senses, Brienne was drawn back to her time here over a year ago, and she smiled in remembering her naiveté during that time. 

So much had changed about her since then.

But even back then she knew that King’s Landing was a dangerous place. And that was when she could leave as she pleased because she had no responsibilities there what so ever. Now, though… she truly hoped she had not gotten in over her head.

Arriving safely inside the gated city, her escorts began to split off to head to their respective posts. Now her small party slowly trotted through the town. Brienne wasn’t surprised that there were no cheering crowds to greet her. She wondered if the citizens had even received word that she was to be the new Queen.

What there did seem to be was more smallfolk milling around aimlessly than the last time she had been here. Many citizens wore tattered clothing and carried hardly anything of worth. A few scary looking individuals gauged her group as they passed and ducked back into the shadows, most likely waiting to prey on others less well protected. 

There were also more wounded and those begging for assistance along the streets. Brienne nodded to Podrick to give what little coin they carried to those most in need.

Those poor grinned gratefully to Brienne, but as soon as Podrick ran out, those left with nothing glared up at her.

As her group cantered past the muttering crowd of people, Brienne turned to the Captain, her gaze questioningly. 

The older guard shifted uneasily in his saddle and explained, “My lady, there are many who sought shelter after the war. It was either come here or go out to the countryside and take their chances.”

She nodded and added it to her growing list of things that needed taking care of. She might not be sure about how dire the White Walker threat was, but what she did know was that Winter was coming. They would need to do everything possible to prepare for the snowy weather that according to Lady Sansa, would be severe enough to reach them this far south and beyond.

For immediate help, Brienne would have to inquire with the Tyrell’s regarding crop preparation and to work out some sort of food trade agreement with them. She sighed, already feeling the pressure of leading when all she wanted to do was see Jaime and then sleep. Oh, and a hot bath would be nice, too.

Word must have reached the Keep of their pending arrival, for an honor guard was waiting for them in front of the large wooden doors.

Ser Jaime Lannister stood at the center, and he smiled pleased to see her.

Brienne could not help but return the grin. He looked so magnificent and proud in his white cloak and Queensguard armor that her mouth suddenly went dry. And here she was in her old trousers and an oversize tunic that she had borrowed from one of the knights. Jaime’s gift of armor to her was in the back of the supply cart, wrapped safely up. 

His amazing emerald gaze missed nothing as she noticed him scrutinizing her. She had the urge to run her fingers through her dirty, brittle hair, but kept her hands clenched around the reins of her horse instead. 

Unsure of the position between them, she stated sternly, “Ser Jaime.” She hoped that what she had felt between them when they had last parted at Riverrun was still there.

He quirked a grin up at her, and she settled in her saddle, somewhat relieved. That was until he formally bowed, his gaze never leaving hers. “Your Grace.”

She bristled at that title and curtly stated, “I have not been coronated yet.”

Hiding his smirk, Jaime nodded. “In due time, my lady.” Dutifully he motioned the others in the new Queensguard forward, and she bobbed her head in greetings to them.  
Jaime seemed to sneer when the guards, “Ser Kettleback” and Ser Blount” came forth, but they obediently bowed to her.

As she took in her new honor guard, Jaime gauged her disheveled appearance and drawled, “And I see that you have been busy.”

She turned beet red. Deciding not to answer, she only nodded and studied him in return.

Though he looked amazing in his highly polished armor, she saw past that, for outer appearances could be deceiving. Ignoring Jaime’s cat eating the canary grin that was aimed her way, she saw the bruising around his eyes and the few added wrinkles to them. 

Jaime had lost so much in such a short period of time; his grief must have been staggering. She figured that he had been masking this to others with his usual cocky bravado, but she could tell that her friend was hurting from deep within.

With a grimace, she pulled herself down from her saddle and tried to walk over to him without showing any pain. His brash grin changed to concern when he realized she was hurt.

Her frown stopped him from inquiring as to what happened. Instead, of forcing the issue, Jaime stood solidly by her side, showing strength and support to her by his sheer presence. Now closer, Brienne saw that he was just as handsome and strong as she had last seen him.

She caught the flicker of regret in his eyes, and she nearly grasped his hand in turn. Instead, she said, “I had heard of the King’s passing, as well as his sister and the Queen mother.” She made sure that her eyes caught his. Sincerely she stated, “I am so sorry for their loss.”

Jaime curtly nodded, his stony features briefly melting. It was only a moment of vulnerability, but it was enough to make Brienne want to grab and fiercely hug him. But she knew that he would not appreciate his internal pain being openly acknowledged. Besides, too many were watching them, and she did not want to start any tongues wagging regarding their friendship. 

Looking her up and down, Jaime further took in her appearance and the new scars she had accumulated from last he had seen her. “I heard you had much luck up North.”

She spoke low, so only he could hear her, “Yes, our vow has been taken care of.” She assumed he meant Lady Sansa being back safe at Winterfell.

Jaime nodded pleased. “Good, I am glad that is over.” He added quietly, “Speaking of oaths; I also heard that ‘King’ Stannis has been parted from his head. I take you had sent your regards to him?”

He knew her better than most, and she could not hide the brief smirk of satisfaction that ghosted across her features. She replied, quelling her pleasure, “And we made sure that the Bolton’s got yours.” 

His curiosity piqued, Jaime was about to inquire more when the armored group protectively surrounding them, parted from the back.

A man she had not seen for some time pushed his way forward to stand before her. Littlefinger formally bowed to her. “Lady Brienne, it is a pleasure to see you again. I am told chambers have been prepared for you and your squire.”

“I see you have been demoted to steward, Lord Baelish.” Jaime coolly jeered to the obsequious man.

If Jaime had been concerned that Brienne did not know what sort of person Littlefinger was, she would inform him later. But glancing at the sneering Lord of the Vale in front of her, reminded her that soon she would be surrounded in court by the scheming nobility. She was grateful to have Jaime in her corner.

Captain Starling was by her elbow and grasped it gently. “Actually, her ladyship was wounded on the way here and needs to see the maester.”

Brienne frowned at him and gritted through clenched teeth, “I just need a bath to get the dirt from our travels off. Then I wish to speak to the council.”

Before Jaime could chide her about her health, Littlefinger cut in, “My lady; court will convene on the morrow in regards to your new position. In the meantime, you should have your wounds attended to and then relax. I can assure you that tomorrow will be a very busy day.”

She glared at the smaller man, remembering how he had driven her away from Lady Sansa back at that Inn that time ago. If he thought she did not know that he was responsible for the young Starks brutal treatment at the hands of Ramsay Bolton, he was vastly mistaken.

Brienne had also not forgotten how Littlefinger had ignored Sansa’s plea for help when they fought against the Bolton’s to gain control of Winterfell. If Blackfish and his men hadn’t arrived when they did…  
For his duplicitous dealing, she was tempted to openly challenge Baelish on the spot. It did not go unnoticed when her palm glanced over the ornate pommel of Oathkeeper.

Jaime must have recognized that look in her eyes and the subtle move and stood in front of her, blocking her view of the oily Lord of the Vale. He stared her in the eyes. “My lady should be tended to, now.”

His gaze was of concern, and his tone was of warning. Brienne could tell that he wanted to privately talk to her as soon as they were able. Curtly she nodded but vowed that this sort of ‘handling’ was going to be the first decree that she ordered stopped. 

Jaime exchanged a glare with Littlefinger, who then bowed once more and moved out of their way.

Brienne turned to Captain Starling, “Thank you for bringing us safely to King’s Landing, Captain.”

Embarrassed he stated, “Our pleasure, my lady. Though I wish it could have been a more uneventful journey.”

She smiled at that and nodded. Jaime frowned at the man, and she had a feeling the Lord Commander had a few choice words to say to her original escort.

Instead of addressing it now, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard pivoted and led the way into the Keep. Brienne and Podrick followed close behind. She tried to ignore the others knights presence when the new honor guard formed behind her. It was unnerving to have so many unknowns at her back.

A tall steward was suddenly by her side and introduced himself as “Fynn.” Then he began to natter on about various courtly things that she should be aware of. She promptly ignored the majority of his words, her focus intent only on the handsome man in regal armor striding purposely in front of them.

Never once did Jaime glance back or speak to her as he led them through the twisting corridors of the Keep. He seemed all business now, but Brienne did not mind watching him as he sauntered confidently down the hall. Alas, she was tired though and wished they would hurry up and get to their destination.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Jaime stopped in front of a large door. Before he could knock, she turned to the steward.

Brienne commanded, “Please take my squire to his chambers. Have food and a bath drawn for him.”

Podrick protested, “But my lady, what if you need me?”

Her stern gaze softened as she reassured Podrick, “Ser Jaime will look after me now, and you need your rest.”

The young squire glanced at the Lord Commander of the Queensguard and saw the determination in the older man’s eyes. 

Podrick smiled pleased and bowed to her obsequiously. She really wished she could hit him. Then the steward followed her squire’s example and bowed as well. As they left, Brienne glumly realized she would just have to accept such ridiculousness.

Smirking, Jaime side-eyed her in approval and then rapped his golden knuckles upon the thick wooden door. There was a call for admission, and he pushed it open.

Entering, Brienne took in the surroundings and studied the well-lit, if grimy and cluttered chambers. She ignored the plates of old food that gathered dust and mold, as well as the general messy state of the room.

Behind his massive desk, Maester Pycelle slowly rose from his seat. His stooped over body began to straighten somewhat as he took in the sight of her and tried to meet her eyes. Brienne had the sudden urge to dash forward and offer the old man a chair. The maester though had a proud gleam in his eye, so instead, she waited and observed. As he approached her, she was able to make out that his eyes were very clear and knowledgeable.

The old man studied her closer. “My, you are a big one.” He also did not sound very feeble, and Brienne wondered how much of it was an act. 

Jaime though was not having any of it. He knew the role this one often played. He stated in a commanding tone, “That is the future Queen you are addressing, show her some respect.”

Pycelle bowed and once again Brienne had to stop herself from wanting to assist him to a chair. “My apologies, my lady, I did not mean any disrespect. Please take a seat.” His shaking hand pointed to a nearby stool.

Used to never getting an apology from others, Brienne waved it off. Of all the battles for Jaime to fight on her behalf, this one was too minor to be worth the energy.

Hiding his glower, Jaime turned and nodded to the other guards, who then took sentry out in the hallway.

Shutting the door, Jaime noticed that Brienne had already moved and was sitting on the stool. To keep her modesty, she only raised the back of her tunic, exposing the wound on her back.

While the maester tutted around his disheveled office, gathering cloth and ointment, Jaime noticed Brienne wincing as the shirt pulled on the makeshift bandage underneath. He saw that blood had started to leak through the cloth. 

Jaime was instantly by her side. “Brienne, what happened?”

“The Brotherhood without Banners,” she gritted. “It just stings a bit.”

Jaime shot her an incredulous look. He ignored the cross-hatched scar across her back and the various indents from puncture wounds. They were still red and obviously in the healing stages. He vowed to press her for more information about her time up North later.

Before she could stretch in hopes of relieving some of the discomfort, the maester motioned for her to relax. 

Pycelle carried over clean bandages, and said, “Please take off the tunic, my lady.”

Brienne eyed Jaime, who grinned and turned to give her privacy. 

The Lord Commander could not help but mock out to her, “Outlaws attacked you on your way here? Well, no one could ever claim that being around you is dull, my lady.”

He heard her grunt as the maester began poking at the wound. Jaime turned back around and smirked when he noticed that she held the tunic in front of her chest like a shield.

“The stitches are good,” the old man sniffed out. “Luckily it did not go very deep.”

She glared at Jaime as if to say, ‘See.’

Jaime only rolled his eyes comically at her, and she nearly snorted out loud.

Pycelle missed this silent exchange. “You should try not to move around too much for another day or so. Let the wound heal.” With shaky hands, he applied the curative ointment to her wound.

“Yes, yes.” She impatiently agreed. “I will do so.”

Pycelle finished wrapping a clean cloth around her middle to keep the fresh bandage in place.

After another glare aimed at him from her stern gaze, Jaime turned once more, and she put her tunic back on.

Figuring she had enough time to do so, Jaime glanced over his shoulder at her and watched as Pycelle began to clean around the shallow wound on her cheek. 

As he applied ointment to it, Brienne flinched.

Stopping his work, Pycelle stated, “My apologies, my lady.”

She shook her head to indicate that his ministrations were not the reason for her reaction. Instead, she pointed at a very large, bloody suit of armor that was tucked in the corner of the room. She could not be sure, but she thought someone might be still in it. “What is that?”

Jaime’s gaze tracked her gesture, and he sneered. “An abomination that Maester Pycelle thinks that once he figures out, he can control.” His angry answer spelled out what he thought of the risk involved.

Quickly Pycelle defended his actions, “Robert Strong was a near indestructible warrior and would be a good champion should you need one, my lady.”

Brienne had had enough and pulled away before Pycelle could finish dabbing her cheek with the oily substance. Annoyed, she bluntly stated, “I am my own champion.”

Pycelle sighed and glanced over at Jaime. The Lord Commander nodded that he would handle this. The old maester turned and tinkered on something at his desk so to give them the idea of privacy. 

Jaime kneeled by her side and explained, “Your role has changed, Brienne. You can no longer place yourself in harm’s way.”

She glowered at the words but then sighed. Though she was loathed to admit it, he was right.

Noticing that she had accepted her duty, Jaime smirked and added, “I know you don’t want to be Queen, but placing yourself in jeopardy is not the best way to get out of it.”

Her hand angrily slashed the air. “Yes, yes, but I would still feel better if I could wear a sword at court.”

Jaime thought a moment and then smiled, “Well, I will carry two, and if needed, one is always yours.”

His tone was a near echo of how he had sounded at the Riverrun camp. She nodded shyly and returned his grin. Pycelle made a noise, snapping them out of this personal exchange.

“Um, yes.” Jaime stood and addressed Pycelle, “So, we are done here?”

Pycelle nodded, so Jaime held out his left hand to Brienne. She clasped it in hers, and he helped her to her feet. It was not missed by the old maester that they had yet to release their tight grip on one another, nor had they stopped staring into each other’s eyes.

Jaime didn’t bother acknowledging the watchful gaze by the old man; this was the first chance he had to touch her, to remind himself that she was truly here and still not off risking her life up North. 

Pycelle coughed delicately, and Brienne’s stare was no longer locked on Jaime’s. Remembering where she was, she quickly let go of his hand and straightened her appearance.

“My lady, let me show you to your chambers.” Jaime did a slight courtly bow more for Pycelle’s benefit than her own. 

Brienne sighed and stomped to the door. She was too tired to play political games right now.

Exiting the room, Jaime once more took the lead, marching a few steps ahead of her. It was just as well they did not talk about what had just happened, Brienne figured. She did wish to speak with him, but they needed privacy.

Finally, they reached the ornate doors to the royal chambers. Jaime seemed hesitant to open them, but after a deep breath, he did so.

Brienne decided it was time to use some of her supposed power. She commanded to the other guards, “I wish to speak to the Lord Commander in private. Please wait out here.”

She then entered the extravagant royal chambers, Jaime on her heels.

Jaime spun and motioned for the Queensguard to stay alert. “And have someone bring up food and drink for her. And Blount, you know what to do,” was his last order before he shut the door on the large man’s perturbed face. 

Brienne carefully watched Jaime as his sorrowful gaze took in the room. She then realized, “This is your first time back here in your son’s chambers.”

Jaime curtly nodded, and he could not look at her, afraid she would see how upset this was making him. He flinched when she lightly grasped his arm. Carefully, she turned him around and saw the devastation in his eyes. Without another thought, she pulled him in and hugged him.

At first, it was awkward; his armor was unyielding as the man within. Neither of them had been very good at expressing themselves to others, always too proud and independent. But Brienne could tell that he was hurting, and though it went against propriety, he was her friend, and he needed her.

In the beginning, his arms hung at his sides, but then he suddenly hugged her back fiercely, and he began to weep, and tears fell onto Brienne’s shoulder. 

Jaime had had no one he could open up to, no one he could fully trust, and he had stuffed his feelings of sorrow and loneliness down so deep he had thought he would never feel again.   
But finally able to safely break down, Jaime realized that he had kept his grief bottled up for too long and it had nearly eaten him up from the inside. Bronn was his confidant in some ways, but Jaime could not tell him everything.

Even when Cersei and Tommen had been alive, Jaime could not show his need for comfort. After he had come back with the body of his dead daughter, they had been so distant to him, and the guilt gnawed further adding to his grief. It felt as if he had lost his hand all over again.

But here it seemed as if his right hand, his strength, had come back to him. This was the woman who had kept him alive in the Riverlands, who had seen him at his worst during those times. This was the person he had admitted the truth to about everything, from his real reason for killing the Mad King to the pushing of Bran Stark out of a window. And still, she thought him honorable, even after all the horrible things he had confessed to. 

Gods he was so happy she was back.

His racking sobs began to subside, but still, he clutched her tight. Her warmth and strength, seemed to leech off of her, adding to what little he felt he had left within. 

Reluctantly, he pulled from her and glanced away, not wanting to show her any more of his weakness.

Finally, he glanced at her and saw that her eyes swum with tears as well, and he wondered if she had needed the hug as much as he had.

“Thank you, wench.” He said with a bittersweet smile.

She laughed, the spell of sorrow broken. “The name’s Brienne.” She reminded him with a mocked scornful look of outrage.

Both then shared a grin. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, and Brienne and Jaime instantly separated further apart.

Quickly wiping his eyes clear, Jaime answered the door and took the tray from Blount. Curtly he asked the large man, “And you tasted it?” 

Blount nodded dutifully, but his resentment at his new role was easily read. 

“Good,” Jaime stated. He hoped the man did a better job than the last time; the King had been killed by poison on the large man’s watch. “Now we are not to be disturbed unless the Keep is on fire or such.”

He then shut the door in Blount’s face once again. Jaime took a lot of satisfaction doing that as often as possible. 

Brienne approached him, her usual scowl once more in place. “What was that all about?” 

Balancing the tray, he walked towards the large table that took up the corner of the room. “His job is to make sure you are not poisoned.”

She scoffed, “Surely—“

Sighing, Jaime glumly stated, “Brienne, we have much to discuss.” 

He placed the tray on the table and indicated for her to eat. As she sat down, Jaime began with the latest news that was going on in the Keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again so much for all the wonderful words and continued support for this story. It is really fun to write and your words help add to the enjoyment (and motivation!).
> 
> Also, please let me know if Brienne's backstory regarding The Battle of the Bastards doesn't make any sense. I can clarify in the next chapter if needs be.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late evening when an exhausted Jaime trudged back to his chambers in the White Tower. Though it was a tiring climb up all those steps, he felt less burdened from his sorrows and regrets.

As Jaime neared his door, he reflected on the past hours he had shared with his long lost friend. 

At first, he and Brienne had caught up on their time apart. It had been an emotional time for him especially when he recounted bringing his daughter’s body back from Dorne and then of later finding both his sister and son dead in Cersei’s chambers. 

He did cheer up when Brienne told him of her adventures up North. Though she spoke of her successes, very little of her emotional triumphant was revealed. In those instances, Jaime made sure to watch her face. The best reaction was the coy smile that tweaked her lips when she told of Lady Sansa agreeing to accept her protection. 

Honestly, Jaime had been impressed with what Brienne had accomplished during the year, but he knew she had glossed over the unpleasantness that she had also experienced.   
She was especially tight-lipped about what had happened to Sansa Stark while she was under Ramsay Bolton's ‘care,’ but Jaime could read his wenches angry frown well. By the sound of it, being fed to his dogs was too good for that Northern bastard.

Closely looking at him, Brienne grasped his hand tightly. “And thank you for letting Blackfish and his soldiers escape, Jaime. He arrived at Winterfell just in the nick of time to save us all.”  
Seeing how sadly earnest she was and remembering the new scars on her body, he realized things had been grimmer up there than he could have imagined. Cursing to himself had he known about it then, he would have sent the entire Lannister army to protect Brienne.

Jaime wished she would tell him the reason why her eyes became distant and troubled. Leave it to his wench to not want to burden him with her troubles. He vowed to make her open up more when she was less overwhelmed with the tasks before her. 

Realizing that her face showed more than it should, she tried to lighten the mood, “I take it that your sister had been displeased that you came back empty handed.”

Taking a sip of wine, he revealed, “Yes, she really wanted Blackfish’s head on a pike.” He did not know if he should tell Brienne more. The truth was, once Cersei found out that not only had the Blackfish escaped but that the old Trout had turned the odds so the Stark’s would live and take Winterfell, she swore never to trust Jaime again. He remembered her sneer as she glared at him in betrayal. 

A raving Cersei had accused him of being duplicitous. He tried to explain, but she knew there was no way that so many traitorous soldiers could escape past the lines without help. Someone high in power had to have allowed it. She would never forgive Jaime for letting all of them go free to help her sworn enemy. Did he not remember that their horrid brother and his wife had conspired to kill their son!

This seemed to be the beginning of Cersei’s downward spiral. She could not even count on her brother anymore, her lover who had always stood by her side. She asked him why he had saved the Stark’s especially that brat Sansa, but his disquiet clued her in that it went deeper than that. “No, it wasn’t the little Stark girl he was saving, it was that big lumbering cow,” she accused.

With this startling denunciation, Jaime knew that she had spoken to Qyburn about all this. It must have been his ‘little birds’ that told of Brienne being in the Lannister camp outside of Riverrun. They had certainly heard the rumors circulated amongst his men of a large woman with an impressive Lannister sword entering Lord Jaime’s tent.

An adamant Cersei knew that it meant that he had let his heart rule, but this time for another. Her brother would never have betrayed her otherwise. 

It took him a while to admit it, but Cersei was right, for only his heart would turn on her. He loved his sister, but lately, she was not the person he remembered. After Joffrey’s death, she became even more obsessed with becoming Queen. Their longtime fantasies of escaping together and marrying had become the dreams of the past. She only used him now to get what she wanted, and it further soured him towards her. Plus there were the stories that she had taken to sleeping with the Kingsguard while he had been in Riverrun.

Jaime would have done just about anything for Cersei, but no longer what she craved the most from him. Even the few time’s she invited him to her bed, he rebuffed her, and her resentment towards him intensified.

Now on those cold nights when he was alone, he no longer thought of his sister as he lay in bed. All he would see was Brienne, majestic and stalwart, standing in his tent. The image seemed to be burned into his subconscious. 

Jaime had not realized he had been quiet for so long, until Brienne nudged him, “I see that she was upset enough to kick you back to leading the Kingsguard.”

He smiled sadly. When he had come back to King’s Landing, Cersei had been very upset with his failure. But even though she was devastated by his deceit, she needed him by her side. It was a week later when she took revenge on the Faith Militant and started the whole mess.

“Yet it was still preferable to being a Lord.” It was a lame jape, but Brienne heard the hollowness in Jaime’s voice and nodded her head. She wasn’t the only one keeping certain truths unsaid. Quickly, the subject was changed.

Back in the present, Jaime opened the door to his chambers, still reflecting on the past few hours. He sighed heavily in memory over their discussion in regards to Brienne being Queen. They had talked about possible strategies and the best course to take. Jaime reiterated her concerns that she was only being made Queen because the council believed her to be malleable to what they wanted. Both agreed that she should pretend to be the puppet they expected. Then once she was coronated, she would remind them of who she really was.

Honestly, Jaime believed that Brienne would make a good and fair Queen. Before they had talked, Jaime had been worried that she would let others take advantage of her naiveté, but now she seemed like a changed woman. What had happened to her during her adventure in tracking down and protecting the Stark girls had made her wiser, less innocent.

But still she was the Brienne he knew, honorable and kind, and he was happy she was back near him once more. He had missed his wench… actually, now she was the Queen Wench, he thought with a smirk. He could not wait to tease her on that one.

“What are you grinning at?” A male voice cheerfully called out to Jaime as he entered his chambers.

Jaime tried to mask his groan. Emotionally worn out, all he wanted to do was toss off his armor and crawl into bed.

Instead, he stared at his reposed visitor, who had a drink in hand and his boot heels resting on the table. At least this time his friend had waited in Jaime’s chamber and not in the main room. Then, his scuffed boots had rested on the ornate Godswood tree stump that was the table for the Kingsguard meetings, nearly getting his dirty boot prints on the White Book.

“Bronn,” Jaime greeted through gritted teeth. 

Though Bronn had been a trusted friend he could confide most of his problems to, there were some things that Jaime would never reveal to him that he had to Brienne. Nor did he believe Bronn would hug him if he sensed that Jaime needed one. Jaime could not stop the wide smile when he thought of the comfort he felt in Brienne’s strong embrace after they had first entered her chambers.

His friend studied Jaime’s far away stare and smirked. Then he did a flourishing seated bow, proud that he never once spilled his drink in the process. “Hello, my lord. Thought I would see how your night went while I enjoyed this wonderful wine. I heard we have a new visitor?” A drunken Bronn smiled smugly as he raised the wine cup in salute to Jaime. The decanter on the table was already half empty.

Stepping towards his armoire and armor stand, Jaime waved his friend off. “Not now Bronn, I’m very busy.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Bronn sniffed, “It seems with your best friend back, you no longer have need of me.”

Jaime growled at his friend’s words and then from the feel of pleasure when he removed the heavy armor breastplate. Hanging it up on the stand, he began to remove his gauntlets.

Bronn grinned at him over the rim of his goblet as he took a sip. “So, how’d she look?”

Jaime thought, ‘Tall, legs for miles, amazing eyes of blue, honorable as always—‘ Instead, he said, “The same.” He sighed and dropped onto the chair across from his drinking buddy, tossing his wrist guards onto the table. 

A blurry Bronn glanced out of the window and squinted at the night sky, “It’s not morning yet; I am surprised you are back so soon.”

“She’s taking a bath now.” Jaime grabbed the decanter and filled his cup. Bronn pouted when Jaime did not refill his.

“What, she did not want you to scrub her back?” The man grinned at Jaime dangerously, “Though there’s so much of her, you could get a hand cramp managing that.”

Jaime took a deep gulp of wine, glaring at Bronn the whole time. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He just wanted to lie down. He hoped his dreams would now be more pleasant with Brienne safely back here. 

With mocked annoyance, Bronn groused, “You Lannisters are no fun. With your brother gone, I have no one else to play with.”

Irritated at the mention of his murderous brother, Jaime japed, “Buy yourself a full-time nanny and let me sleep.”

“She wore you out, huh?” Bronn reached over and refilled his cup. For maliciousness sake, Bronn kept the decanter on his side of the table. “So, what has she been up to? Rumor has it she’s been very busy up North—“

Jaime only nodded and finished his wine in one gulp. Hoping Bronn would take the hint, Jaime stood, “Actually, I promised to escort her to the council meeting early this morrow.”

Bronn made a face, but did not get up, “They will eat her alive.”

Jaime’s grin was all-knowing, and Bronn raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Jaime refused to divulge his thoughts on that.

The man could not help but pick at the subject that Jaime had been so closed-mouthed about. “Come on; there has to be something going on between you two. Until she got here, you were a nervous wreck.”

Before Bronn could start any of his bad impersonations of him, Jaime quickly spoke, “Fine, fine, since you won’t take the hint. She had a lovely time up North and believes she can do right for the people down here.”

Bronn snorted at such an assertion. “In other words, she’s dead meat.”

Jaime once more flopped onto his seat and held his head in his golden hand. “Yes.”

“And you get to protect her.” Bronn smirked, “This should be good.”

Indignant, Jaime nearly knocked the wine cup from Bronn’s fingers. “What does that mean?”

Bronn quickly protected his beverage. “Nothing just should give you an excuse to have more alone time with her.”

An angry Jaime began to rise from his seat, and Bronn quickly waved him back down, “No, no. It just means you have the chance to be together without raising too much suspicion. Now for you two acting on it—“

Jaime glowered and protested his friend’s allegations, “Now see here—“

Bronn loudly cleared his throat interrupting Jaime’s denial. He raised a hand and began to tick off points on his fingers. “You missed her. You talked all this week, hell all this month about her coming down south and now you are…Look I saw the glances you two exchanged when she left here the last time. I mean the heat that radiated off your stares; well I would be surprised if there weren’t any scorch marks left behind. Seriously, you two salted the ground with all your pining glances. Not to mention how grumpy you were once she left you in Riverrun.”

Tiredly, Jaime nodded. Bronn was right; he could not deny the feelings he had for her anymore. Frustrated, Jaime got to his feet and began to pace. “But I cannot do anything. She is to be the Queen, and I am her sworn Guard. It is against—“

Bronn stared at Jaime until he quieted down. “I know this is a sore subject, but that didn’t stop you with your sister.”

Jaime rued the day he dropped that little chestnut of knowledge on his friend. He blamed it on too much wine. “Yes, yes, but I want to make right with Brienne. Besides, she would never want to act on it.”

“She’s still a shy maiden? I’d think being away up North she would have sowed her oats to keep warm, so to speak.” Bronn tapped his chin with the rim of the cup. “Does she even still go by the name Maid of Tarth anymore? Hum, she will be known as the ‘Maiden Queen.’ What an interesting title that is and quite a challenge to entice all the suitors.”

Jaime frowned at the mention of suitors and decided to ignore that problem for now. “I have no idea about her… status and it is none of my business.” 

He shook his head when he remembered that the once shy young woman seemed no longer so innocent. But Jaime was certain that her new found confidence had not been predicated by a tumble in the hay. No, he was sure it had been due to her successes. But still, he wondered just what she had not told him. 

Pushing the thought from his head, Jaime continued, “Regardless of her standings, she would never let me go against my oath as a Queensguard.”

Bronn grumbled into his cup, making his voice sound hollow, “I forgot how honorable she is. You’d think from the looks you two had exchanged she could overlook a few things.” Bronn suddenly smiled, “Well she is to be Queen after all. Why could she not change things?”

Jaime shook his head. “She is too stubborn to change the way things have worked for so long. Besides, she is too noble to ‘abuse’ her power.” He sighed, “She is so close and yet further away than ever before.”

Bronn began to rub his finger along the rim of his cup. “Too bad you two never acted on your feelings when you were both at the Riverrun camp.” 

Jaime glared at the man, his memory falling back on that time and how they were on opposite sides. All he could grumble out was, “It would not have worked then either.”

Now Bronn was getting frustrated. He thought all his ideas were wonderful. These two were just too pigheaded and scared of intimacy. Frankly, he had never known two people who so readily denied what everyone else could see so plainly. “Well, why not give up the cloak. Ask her to marry you?”

“I cannot, this is my pledge.” Before Bronn could interrupt with any more biting advice, Jaime continued, “So I leave the Guard; ask her to marry me. If she said yes, then who would protect her from those who seek to control and hurt her? These people are vipers! At least as the Commander of the Guard, I can always be near her, making sure that no one tried to kill her. And frankly, there is no one else I could trust with her life. No offense.”

Bronn snorted, “None taken. There is no way I would take the white cloak anyway. Too boring. Speaking of which, no offense,” he stood, “but this is like being at my own ass-kicking contest. Since my good suggestions are being shot down, it is time I take this elsewhere.”

Jaime did not mean to offend his friend and began to protest. Bronn smirked, “What, now you want me to stay? I am starting to see why everyone is so frustrated with you two.”

“It’s complicated.” Was all Jaime could state lamely.

Bronn made a snorting sound, and then mockingly bowed, “Well my lord, been a pleasure. I am sure I can find someone else who would be more receptive to my ideas.”

Jaime waved his friend off and heard the door being shut behind him. He exhaled, eyeing the nearly empty decanter on the table.

Instead of drinking more, Jaime quickly divested himself of his clothes and crawled into bed.

As he laid his head on the pillow, he worried he would be too keyed up to sleep. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself yawning, his eyelids getting heavier. He wondered if it had to do with the fact that his wench was closer now, where he could keep an eye on her. With an indulgent smile, he fell asleep.  
*  
Brienne awoke to the bright sunlight shining on her face as it crept across the large bay window. 

Often being on the road had trained her to rise as the sun did, whether one could see it or not. Especially up North when the dreary overcast days seemed to last longer and longer. She had missed the sunshine, and she smiled as the natural warmth comforted her.

She felt so good and rested that she began to doze. Those relaxed feelings were short-lived when she remembered what today entailed. Deciding it would be an abuse of power if she slept in, Brienne forced her eyes open.

With a yawn and a stretch that reminded her that her back was still tender, she carefully rolled over and sat at the edge of the huge bed. She never thought she would sleep in a bed this size again since she had left Tarth.

Glancing around the room, she realized she had nothing to wear at this morning’s council meeting. She doubted she would leave a good impression if she showed up in yesterday’s clothes. The few possessions she had brought with her from the North were in even worse condition. Maybe she should wear the armor Jaime had given her long ago; that would certainly show she meant business, she thought with a grin.

Then Brienne sighed and recalled the discussion that she and Jaime had had last night. She had to play the fool if the council members were to trust her to be the Queen they could control.

But that still did not solve her clothing dilemma. And she certainly could not wear the threadbare shift she had gone to bed in.

Brienne frowned when she spotted the regal robe lying at the foot of the bed. She was startled that she had slept so soundly that she had not heard anyone enter to leave it. She would have to be more aware from now on and glanced over at Oathkeeper. The famous sword hung from the top bedpost closest to her reach. 

She knew the guards would have prevented anyone sinister from entering, but she would remind them to not allow visitors in without alerting her first. She had learned her lesson up North when she had to deal with the Wildings at Castle Black.

Her foot bumped into something on the floor. Glancing down, she saw that there were slippers, and she wondered who had known her foot size. Then she smiled, for Jaime would be the only one who would know. After all, he had been able to get a suit of armor made for her without openly asking for her measurements.

Shoving her feet into them, she momentarily forgot her troubles for the slippers were warm and very comfortable. She smiled at the care that was shown in the making of them as well that Jaime had been kind enough to think of having them made for her. It had been some time since someone had been nice to her without expecting something in return.   
She supposed that she would have to get used to such gestures from him and she smiled, touched at his sincerity.

Getting up, she leaned over and caressed the thick garment at the foot of her bed. The smooth feel of silk was so decadent, and the inlaid stitching was amazing, that she could not help the grin that spread across her features. Her long fingers then ruffled the fur-lined collar, and she smiled for the robe was the shade of the House colors of Tarth. 

Nodding pleased; she carefully swung the robe up and around to let it settle onto her large shoulders. The stitches from the wound on her back tugged a bit from the movement, but otherwise, she felt only a little discomfort from her injury.

She then put her arms through the sleeves and shrugged into it. The size was a little small for her as it was tight across the shoulders, but it felt so nice against her bare arms. And though a fire warmed the room, the robe itself was reassuring, almost like a hug.

Knocking herself from her wayward thoughts, she knew she had to get this day going and rang the bell.

The tall Steward entered and bowed, “Good morning, your Grace. How may I be of service?”

“Please have breakfast brought up.” As the Steward signaled one of the maids to do as she bided, Brienne worried her lip, unsure as to how to address the issue of what to wear.

She guessed she could have the old clothes that she had tailored the last time she was here brought out from storage. Hopefully, they had not been made into rags; they were of very good quality. With her luck, they would be moth-eaten or stained from rat droppings.

But though they were fine clothes, they probably were not suited for the meeting with the council either. 

She sighed, and the Steward glanced at her anxiously.

With no other idea on how to delicately address her problem, she plainly stated, “I don’t suppose you could find my old clothes from the last time I was here?”

The Steward protested, and Brienne feared the worse. Because of time constraints, that meant that the seamstress would have to try to fit her into someone else’s clothing, and she knew from experience that never boded well.

Clearing his throat, the Steward reassured her, “Actually my lady; proper garments have been tailored for you, and the royal seamstress will be by to adjust them accordingly after your breakfast. Meanwhile, I will have them brought in for your approval.” 

She frowned, but before she could inquire as to how they existed, the Steward had snapped his fingers and maids began to bring in dresses. Once hung up for proper display, they curtsied and left.

Shuffling over to clothes, Brienne grazed her fingers over the soft material and grinned. The dresses were beautiful and obviously made for a Queen. She gave an inquiring look to the Steward.

The Steward bowed, “Ser Jaime had us find the tailored clothing you had left behind from your last visit here and those were used as a template to measure from.”

Brienne nodded and genuinely smiled at the thoughtfulness. Jaime knew how important her first impression on the council would be. She was glad he thought of everything.

The Stewards critical eye took in the tightness of the robe across her shoulders, and Brienne self-consciously tugged on it. She figured back then; she had just come back from a harrowing journey that had no doubt shrunken her somewhat in size. While up North she had fought and ate and grew back to the normal stature she had once been.

The maid entered, and breakfast was quickly deposited on the table. The Steward indicated for Brienne to sit and he began to pull off the golden covers to reveal plated food. Preoccupied in thought, she did as he said without comment. It was when he placed the napkin on her lap that she snapped out of it. Impatiently, she shooed away his hands and flustered, he quickly took a step back. 

Being raised as a lady meant she understood the role that the servants played, but she had been looking after herself for so long, it felt odd. But good manners indicated that she should not be rude, and she explained, “Sorry, I would rather do this myself.” 

The Steward nodded relieved. 

Brienne almost inquired if Blount had tasted her food, but then noticed that small portions had been taken from each helping. No doubt his work checking for poisons.

As she began to munch on bacon, the Steward quickly went over her day. There was to be the council meeting for the morning and then the tour of the Keep. She nodded at each, already lost in thought.

Though she and Jaime had gone over things yesterday, she was still worried about what the council meeting would entail.

Jaime’s words floated in her mind, and she reflected on the conversation that they had had yesterday during dinner.

Before them had been a repast of food that Brienne had salivated over. All her favorites were plated. 

Jaime eyed it hungrily as well, and there was surely enough to share. He declined her offer, stating it was all for her. She did not have to hear him twice, and she began to sup greedily.

Before she shoved a forkful of roasted pork into her mouth, she asked, “Do you know who backed my being made the queen?”

He frowned at her table manners but figured being up North might have knocked some of the lady out of her. Instead of admonishing her, he informed her of what she faced in the morning.

“Of the five council members left, three are in your court. Lady Olenna and her son Mace Tyrell and Littlefinger.” 

Of those, she was not surprised that the Tyrells supported her. They probably felt they could manipulate her easily. The Thorn had taken to Brienne from her first time in King’s Landing, at one point stating she was “Marvelous” whatever that meant, Brienne thought with a scowl.

What was a shock was that Baelish supported her? She wondered what Littlefinger was playing at. He knew that she had been up North, which meant that she was aware of his duplicitous nature in regards to the Bolton’s and Lady Sansa. The odious man must think he could manipulate her regardless of what was known.

Brienne sneered and stabbed a piece of pork on her plate with a fork, “Yes, they must all think I will be their perfect figurehead.” 

Jaime grinned at her foresight, but it also saddened him that her adorable naiveté was gone.

The two remaining council members were going to be the ones that took the most effort to convince, though. Jaime went on to explain, “My uncle Kevan Lannister who is the Hand and the Grand Maester Pycelle could be a problem.” 

When Brienne frowned at his words quizzically, he reasoned, “They were already distrusting after the others were so quick to crown you. For some reason, those two view you as being too difficult to control.” He smirked with a knowing grin that she ignored. “Besides, all they really know about you was your escorting me here from the Riverlands. Then, of course, there were the rumors that you were up North assisting one of Joffrey’s killers in retaking Winterfell from the King’s sanctioned Warden.”

Yes, that certainly explained Jaime’s uncle’s reluctance to accept her. 

Brienne scowled as she thought about Pycelle’s possible reasons. It probably did not help that her first impression on him was of not being very lady-like. She grimaced at the memory and wondered if what had happened in his study could ruin her chances. The old Maester had seemed to be studying her rather closely, and she wished Jaime had warned her of Pycelle’s position on the council instead of insulting the man. 

“Regardless, those two do not have much of a choice.” Jaime confidently stated, “I believe they have to go with the other council member’s decision. If anything it is imperative that they get someone on the throne as soon as possible. The country was already in enough disarray after the King’s death, and the people would feel better knowing that there was a ruler back on the throne. The trick was making it so the council would want to keep you for good, and not depose you when they found someone else more suited to their needs.” As he spoke, he glanced over the plate of food before her, hungrily eyeing the meal once more.

Brienne agreed, but added, “Regardless, they all will make it difficult for me to get what I needed accomplished when I do take over.”

Jaime glumly nodded, and she was grateful for his council. She wished she could make him her Hand. But even if she was willing to go against the current Hand, Kevan Lannister, she knew Jaime would never want the position.

Brienne watched as he snuck some crispy potatoes from her plate and into his mouth. Watching him swallow, she asked, “Anything else you heard?” 

He grabbed the unused salad fork and speared a bit of roasted pork next. “Well, Littlefinger is crowing about the North and how Lady Sansa Stark is the new threat against all of Westeros.”

She laughed at his words. “That man should be up for treason. He was the one who sent Sansa Stark up there as a bargaining chip for the Bolton’s.” She did not add what the young Stark had been through but internally vowed that Baelish would pay for what he did to her Lady.

Jaime nodded. “Yes, but he knows you cannot admit to what you know about up there, and that must be what he is counting on.”

Brienne exhaled forlornly, “He is a clever bastard.”

Thinking a moment, Jaime reached over and grabbed her cup of wine and took a gulp. “Yes, Baelish painted a different picture from his dealings up North.” An excited Jaime asked, “Do you have any proof of his culpability?”

She snorted, “Just my word versus his.”

He flashed the famous Lannister sharp toothy grin, “Your word will be worth more than a thousand of Littlefingers once you are Queen.”

She gazed at her plate in contemplation. “No wonder I should be weary of the food.”

“Or he knows that you dare not say anything. Thankfully, I am the only one who knows for a fact that you have assisted Lady Sansa in retaking back Winterfell. There are rumors of some large warrior maid,” he squinted at her to indicate that she should have known better, “even if the entire council suspects, they are keeping quiet.” He sopped up some gravy with a piece of bread, “Sure, the council will hint that they know the truth and will try to use it against you, to control you, but if you do not admit to anything, it will be unsubstantiated rumors only.”

Brienne distractedly watched as he stuffed the piece of bread into his mouth and continued talking, “Though honestly, I think they are so busy vying for power, they will happily forget that you were there, doing your damnedest to take matters into your own hands.”

He pointed a gravy covered finger at her. 

Instantly, she felt she had to defend her actions, “Now Jaime—“

He wiped his hand on the tablecloth, his indignation superseding manners, “Don’t ‘now Jaime’ me, wench. I heard other stories, Brienne. From the sound of it, you nearly got killed up there. I saw the scars on your back, and I am sure those are not the only ones you carry now.”

Smirking, she shrugged and leaned back in her chair, “Not to worry; a giant had my back during the battle for Winterfell.”

Jaime laughed at that and then realized she was serious. Shaking his head at her boast, he continued, “Regardless, you must be more careful. Baelish has power and would not be afraid to kill you if he thought you were a threat.”

After taking another sip of wine, Jaime added, “He also has many troops in the Vale and could cause problems that we do not need more of.”

“But I am to be Queen,” she declared imperiously.

Jaime nodded impressed and forked a piece of chocolate cake from an adjacent plate. “Use that look when you address any who question your authority.”

It was only after he shoved some dessert into his mouth - a reward that she had been so purposely working towards - that she finally registered what he had been doing.

She had been so busy alternating between listening to him and staring at his sensuous mouth, that he had snuck a good portion of her dinner into his belly. At first, she thought he might have been doing this as a lesson about how to always keep an eye on your prize, but then supposed he was just hungry. 

Frowning when he reached for another bite of cake; she snatched the dessert plate away from him. He pouted in response.

Brienne dropped her half-finished plate of dinner in front of him with an order to have at it. “You should at least have some vegetables before dessert.” 

He smiled devilishly at her, and she momentarily stared at his mouth, involuntarily licking her lips when she noticed the smudge of chocolate on them. 

Brienne was snapped out of her daydream from last night to present day when there was a curt knock on the door. After calling for entry, the Keeps renowned seamstress and her multitude of assistants scurried into the chambers.

Brienne smiled as she stood. She recalled that this woman had been kind to her when she had first come to King’s Landing back when she had needed nice clothes.

The older woman curtsied and grinned back at Brienne. It was short lived when she spied the seams straining around Brienne’s arms and shoulders. Tutting, Beatrice walked around the tall woman and then nodded determinedly as if making a decision.

“My lady, let us begin.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Brienne left her royal chambers, Jaime met her in the hall, looking dashing as ever in his Queensguard armor. 

He, in turn, eyed her up and down, and then nodded in approval. 

Brienne’s dress was a beautiful silken blue with gray trim. It was so smooth and luxurious; it almost felt as if it was a second skin. Brienne had never known that anything could feel this comfortable, especially a dress. The royal seamstress Beatrice, had done an amazing job with adjusting the Queen’s gown, and it highlighted her best attributes – her amazing blue colored eyes, and though they were properly covered, the lines of the dress accentuated the length of her legs.

The older woman had promised to have all the other dresses refitted for her as soon as possible. Brienne just wished that there was someplace she could hide a weapon and asked the kind woman if it was possible to do so. The seamstress smiled indulgently and shook her head. She claimed it would ruin the lines, but Brienne could tell that the woman thought it was just wrong in general for a Queen to be armed. But Brienne missed the comfort of weaponry, and her hands felt empty, useless.

So with nowhere else to rest them, Brienne clutched her hands ineffectually against her sides. She was nervous as to what she would soon face with the council members and wished she could at least hold a sword; it always made her feel protected and in charge.

As Jaime led her and the other guards down the corridor towards some stairs, his scrutinizing gaze must have spotted how anxious she was. He lightly grasped her elbow in the appearance of assisting her down the steps and used this as an excuse to lean close to her. Instead of mentioning her obvious distress, he stated, “You look especially lovely this morning, my Queen,” Jaime purred near her ear. She instantly blushed and did her best to control the involuntary shudder of arousal that ran through her very core.

There was so much she wanted to say to him in gratitude for everything he had done for her. Instead, she breathlessly said, “Thank you.” She hoped her simple words conveyed her appreciation, as did the genuine smile she gave just for him.

Unlike the last time Jaime had escorted her down the hall, he continued to stay by her side, his words for only her to hear. “Always, my Queen.” Not able to help himself, he jested, “I had noticed last night that you had quite a bit of fur amongst your meager apparel.” His honey-sweet breath caressed her cheek, and she quickly inhaled, trying to calm the flutters she felt in her stomach.

If she did not know any better, she would think he was flirting with her. Usually, she would have been more flustered, tripping over words. She might still blush easily, but she was no longer that naïve woman anymore. “Well, it is cold up North,” she said almost as a challenge, a glint in her eyes.

Jaime’s emerald gaze twinkled. “I was pleased to see that you did not have a lion pelt among them.” 

She wanted to reply, ‘No, I have yet to land that trophy.’ But demurely she smiled and dipped her head, “I heard that lions do not like the cold of the North.”

As he led her down a corridor, he chuckled, “So true, your Grace. I am afraid that it makes our roar more tepid.” Nearing their destination, he once more distracted her with words, “I trust you slept well. Good dreams I hope.” He could not remember his dreams from last night, but that was a blessing. Prior, they had been dark recesses of his guilt as he found the bodies of his loved ones throughout the Keep. Recently, Brienne had been added to them. After he came across her lying barely alive on the stone floor, she would die his arms, cursing him for sending her away. Those dreams seemed to affect him the most.

She bobbed her head, “Yes, actually I haven’t slept that well in a long while. And you.”

He smiled and admitted, “Better than I have for some time, my lady. Ah, here we are.”

Jaime abruptly stopped outside some ornate double doors that were guarded by two imposing knights. With a flourish, he opened them and led Brienne in. She realized that besides using the conversation as a means to catch up, Jaime had kept her mind occupied, and she entered the council chambers calmer than she thought she should be.

The Queensguard took position outside of the room and stood sentry with the others.

At the table, five expectant faces stared up at her as she entered and they began to rise from their chairs. Jaime stayed near her side, mirroring her position so to be always at the ready to protect her.

Brienne was unsure who she should address first, but Lady Olenna took care of that for her. The octogenarian shakily stood and using a cane cautiously moved towards the taller woman. Brienne instantly went to her side and carefully grasped the small arthritic hands in her large calloused ones.

Lady Olenna presented her cheek, and Brienne dutifully kissed it. The giantess had to lean so far over; she feared she might pitch right on top of the older woman. Sincerely, Brienne stated, “My lady, I offer my heartfelt condolences to you. Your granddaughter was a wonderful soul, and she will be greatly missed.” Even though Brienne had been accused of Renly’s murder, Lady Margaery had always been kind to her and the first to insist on her innocence to the court.

Tears welled up in Olenna’s eyes, and she nodded in gratitude. “Yes, thank you, my dear.” She turned her head to the older gentleman who stood by her side. “This is my son, Mace Tyrell, your Master of Coin.”

After he formally bowed to her, Brienne said, “An honor, my lord and also my sincere condolences.”

Mace bobbed his head, barely acknowledging her. He appeared as slothful as Jaime had described last night, but Brienne had learned that appearances could be deceiving.

Lady Olenna then presented her to the others, “Your Hand is Lord Kevan Lannister.” The introduced man seemed to flinch at the mention of “Your” but did not react otherwise.

As he curtly bowed, Brienne said, “And I am sorry for your loss as well, my lord.”

Kevan’s hard gaze softened a bit, “It is nice to formally meet you, Lady Brienne.”

It almost sounded like an exasperated sigh when Olenna indicated the older man across from them, “And this is Grand Maester Pycelle.”

“We have already met, but it is a privilege.” The older man croaked as he tepidly bowed. He was halfway up out of his chair; his legs still bent at the knee. Brienne didn’t know if she should feel offended at this slight or worried that the man could never properly straighten.

“And this is Lord Baelish.” One could barely hear the quiet derision in the older woman’s voice. Brienne was relieved that she now knew where the Tyrell’s stood in regards to the Lord of the Vale.

“Lady Brienne, I am pleased to see that you are looking better from when I saw you last.” Even the compliment came out insulting from the Baelish’s pinched mouth.

Brienne would not lie and say there was any pleasure in seeing the man, so she just nodded her head. She reminded herself to guard her angry scowl, at least until after the coronation.

Indicating the empty chair at the head of the table, Brienne was motioned to sit there. Once she did so, the others followed suit, once more taking their places around the large table.

After a deep inhale, Brienne was about to address them, when Kevan interrupted her, “My lady before the coronation can occur at the end of the week, we have a few questions we would like answered.”

Brienne nodded dutifully, “Of course, please ask me anything.” She was momentarily surprised that the coronation was to occur so quickly. She hoped that her father was well enough to attend. While she was being fitted in her regal gowns this morning, she had dictated a short note to her father. She had ended the message with the promise to write him more in detail soon.

Pycelle cleared his throat and began, “What do you hope to accomplish as Queen?”

A fleeting smile graced Brienne’s lips, “My father always said that when the people are happy, things run smoothly. Sadly, on my ride here, we came across the destitution that the long war caused. This was evident, especially throughout the Riverland area. The people are going to need food and shelter for a better chance of survival for the harsh Winter that is coming.” 

Lord Kevan made a loud scoffing noise. “We cannot give handouts; you will bankrupt the crown,” He stated gruffly with a challenging glare aimed her way. 

Brienne quickly ducked her head in agreement and continued, “Of course not. No, my goal is that eventually, they will be able to till the land and grow the crops themselves, but until they can do so, they will need our help.” 

Olenna nodded pleased, “Very admirable my dear. You remind me of my beloved Margaery.”

Smiling, Brienne said earnestly, “I appreciate the compliment, my Lady.” She then addressed those seated at the table, “I think what the people need more is the stability of peace, which will help them to heal in the long run. They need to know that someone is looking out for them and gaining their trust would be my top priority.” All the council members pursed their lips, but none contradicted her.

Lord Kevan exchanged a subtle glance with Pycelle, and the subject changed quickly. “Lady Brienne, we have heard some disturbing rumors that you had gone against the Crown’s interests with your questionable antics up North.”

Quickly Brienne hid her grimace. Though she would prefer Jaime as her Hand, at least Kevan was direct in his ways, and Brienne could respect that. Unlike the smug Littlefinger who seemed to study her like a bug pinned to a mat. 

Sidestepping the obvious, Brienne defiantly admitted, “I pursued Stannis Baratheon up North and put an end to that usurpers fight against the Crown.” She thought that omitting the crux of her entire pledge up North was not a form of admitting guilt. The irony was not lost on her that had she not killed Stannis; she would not be in this predicament. 

Lord Kevan was shrewd like his brother Tywin and pursued his questioning like a lion cornering its prey, “Yes, and we are most grateful for you killing that traitor, but that was not the rumor that I wanted to be addressed. Did you help put Sansa Stark back in charge of Winterfell?”

Unsure how to answer such a straight out accusation, Brienne fumbled for a reply, which enabled Littlefinger to speak up on her behalf. “Regardless of these unsubstantiated allegations, surely Lady Brienne would want what was best for the land.”

Brienne nodded gratefully for his help. She was sincere when she stated, “Of course.”

The concerned look shared between Kevan and Pycelle was not lost on those seated. Brienne realized that this looked like she could be easily manipulated by the other council members. 

Not wanting to be perceived by the two men in such a manner, Brienne angrily confessed, “I assure you, regardless of what I did up North, my loyalty is for the realm and the people. It has always been so.”

Lord Kevan interrupted, “Actually your allegiance seems to be with whoever you bend a knee to at the time. First, it was for Renly Baratheon and now for Sansa Stark, both false pretenders to the realm. And we also have no idea what else you have been up too since you will not reveal exactly what your actions were up there.”

Since she still would not concede to anything, Kevan continued with his condemnations, “How can we be sure that you are not still working for that Stark girl? For all we know, you will do everything in your power to protect her and not bring her to justice for the killing King Joffrey.” He spat and glared over at Jaime to gauge his response. Surprisingly, his nephew wore a brooding mask of forced indifference.

Finally finding her voice, Brienne tried to keep the anger out of her tone as she assured the Hand, “Lady Sansa claims she is innocent, and I believe her, hence why I helped her.”

Incensed, Kevan looked at Baelish expectantly. “Weren’t you just warning of Lady Sansa being a threat to all of Westeros?” He pointed his long index finger at Brienne, “And you want this woman to be your Queen?”

Baelish’s oily tone even made Brienne winch as he stated, “If anything, this proves that Lady Brienne is honorable to her word. Besides, I am sure she realizes her mistake.”

Kevan and Pycelle still stubbornly disagreed with a stout negative shake of their heads.

Brienne scowled, ready to let them all have it. If her wish to help the realm had not been so important, she would have stormed from the room. She truly hated politics.

She then noticed Jaime silently urging her not to make a scene. She inhaled and with resolve, vowed that she could get through this. “Yes, everything that I had accomplished up North is behind me. What is best for the entire kingdom is all I care about.”

Lady Olenna’s pleasant voice declared, “Then I am sure that Lady Brienne will be a fine Queen.”

Before Keven could further question Brienne’s loyalty to the Crown, Mace Tyrell interrupted, “Yes. And any idea on whom you would want to add to your council, we seem to be a little short?”

Grateful for the change in topic, Brienne stated, “I am sure all of you have strong opinions about that, and I certainly am open to your counsel.”

Sensing a chance to end this interrogation, Littlefinger piped in, “Well with Lady Brienne assuring us that her ties up North are over; I say we go ahead with the coronation at the end of the week.” 

Clearing his throat, Kevan addressed Brienne, “Frankly, my other concern is that with all your gallivanting around the country, you’ve shirked your duties to your own House. I fear that this trait would continue once you are in power.” 

Brienne stopped herself from slamming her hand down on the table. Not even her father would dare speak to her in such a manner. As calm as possible, she replied, “I promise you that once I pledge to do something, I go through with it to the end.”

Pycelle interjected before she could further counter Kevan’s assertions, “And to your own detriment by the looks of it, Lady Brienne. When you arrived here, you had been recently wounded in an attack that you had no business being a part of. Not to mention all those other, older scars.”

Brienne wondered if they would have dared say such a thing to Robert Baratheon. Supposedly he was even worse than she was at taking risks and not even a quarter of his actions were for the betterment of the people. She did her best to keep the indignation from her voice, “I will help anyone in need if necessary, regardless of the threat involved. I would think that would be an admirable quality to have as a ruler. Aren’t I supposed to treasure all life?”

Pycelle shook his head knowingly. “Not when there is a bigger picture to look at.” 

“So you want me to do what? Allow others to perish because I refuse to get involved?” Her voice churned with exasperation. 

Baelish piped in, “It seems that it will fall on the rest of us to remind Lady Brienne of her new role and the restrictions involved.”

Instead of quelling Kevan or Pycelle, it seemed to aggravate them more. The Hand glared at Brienne, but his tone was as if talking to a dimwitted child, “You have to remember that not everyone can be saved and that some will have to be sacrificed for the greater good. Is that something you can do in good conscience?”

Seething at the dressing down, Brienne curtly bobbed her head, doing her best to hide the humiliation she felt. “Yes, if it is for the betterment of the land, I guess I will have no choice.”

Brienne realized she had not done a good enough job at schooling her features because Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. “Honestly, I think your appointment is something that must be looked at further. As you know, the council must be unanimous in its agreement.”

Though Brienne understood the politics involved, she was annoyed at this dance. They did not have time for these games, not with all the unrest in the land. She was wise enough to leave it to the others in the council to openly protest, though. 

Lady Olenna caustically spat, “The realm needs a ruler now. They need stability.”

Mace and Baelish heartily nodded in agreement, but Kevan was adamant. “Something this important needs to be thought through more. For now, let us adjourn until later this week. Lady Brienne, please enjoy your time at the Keep, and we will summon you regarding our thoughts in a few days.”

At such a dismissal, Brienne curtly bobbed her head and tried to suppress the anger that threatened to roll up and spew from her mouth. 

They all stood, and Brienne stalked from the room with Jaime close on her heels. She slowed once she was out in the corridor, her hands shaking so bad that she wanted to hit something.

Jaime’s observant gaze noticed this, and he placed his hand on her arm. Glancing over at him, she saw that he was as upset as she was. Pulling her along from prying eyes and ears, he began to lead her further away to tell her something. 

Suddenly, Lady Olenna called out to them, and they stopped their retreat. Jaime’s hand instantly left Brienne’s arm, but Olenna’s crafty gaze took it all in.

The older woman hobbled towards Brienne, her son shadowing behind her, “My lady, a word if you please.”

Brienne internally sighed; it did not take long for the games to begin. 

Jaime stepped back, and they waited for the older woman to arrive. 

*

After Brienne had stormed away, Kevan and Pycelle hovered close to one another, quietly talking. They had suspiciously observed Olenna and Mace practically sprint after the almost Queen. 

Next to the table, Littlefinger gathered his parchments and writing implements, taking his sweet time about it. Surreptitiously, Baelish studied Kevan and Pycelle as they bent their heads to confer. He was curious when those two had become so chummy.

Before they can say anything more, the men noticed Littlefinger standing nearby. Fearing he might be trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, Pycelle coughed and stated loudly to Kevan, “Yes my lord; there is something I need to show you in my study in regards to my newest discovery.” 

Littlefinger smirked at their obviousness and watched as they slowly made their way to the exit. 

*

Olenna leaned on her cane as she crowded closer to Brienne. She ignored the protective glower from the lady’s dutiful Lord Commander. “You know that my House would be the best equipped to feed the masses.”

Brienne nodded and waited for what the Thorn wanted from her in return.

From her periphery, the older woman noticed that Ser Jaime was attempting to get closer without appearing to do so. He was quite the hands-on bodyguard; Olenna mused to herself.

Lowering her voice, Olenna said, “Of course, I would need a favor in return.” She was too old to drag out these games and figured Brienne would appreciate her getting right to the point anyway. “I think my grandson Loras would make a perfect consort for you.” As the young woman sputtered, Olenna figured Brienne needed to work on her game face, though. She ignored the grimace on the younger woman’s face at her revelation. “A Tyrell should hold a position of power and being on the council just isn’t enough.” 

Brienne had been hoping for a grace period before people started making deals with her. She figured it was time to play naïve and innocently stated, “I haven’t been made Queen, yet.” With a slight exasperated chuckle, she added, “And it appears as if some do not wish me to hold such power ever.”

Olenna smirked and assured vehemently, “Do not worry about them. I assure you that you will be Queen by the end of the week.” 

As tactfully as possible, Brienne shrugged bemused, “And if I agreed to take your grandson as my consort, you could assure me that Highgarden can supply enough food for all my subjects?”

Shrewdly the older woman gauged Brienne, “Oh, we can make the quota you need. And if you wish to be sure, then the wedding could wait until after the first harvest.”

Nodding, Brienne then frowned. “Are you sure there will be enough food for the land, even with the Winter weather reaching this far South?”

Though Olenna believed the rumor of an early and difficult Winter to be false, she could see that Brienne believed it to be true. If she could use the young woman’s fear to her advantage, she would. “I can guarantee it my dear; all your subjects will have food in their belly before the first snow.”

Seeing the hesitation displayed on the woman’s plain features, Olenna patted Brienne’s hand. “You do not have to make your decision now of course. But I would consider it an honor if you would at least put Loras at the top on your list of suitors.”

Flustered, Brienne could not hide the tinge of irritation in her voice, “There is no list.” 

“Um, hum.” The older woman nodded knowingly, her eyes flicking to Jaime’s confident pose. Olenna added smugly, “Of course I know you have feelings for another,” she hushed Brienne’s weak protests with a swift hand gesture. “Loras would not care if you dallied on the side. But I would expect an heir,” she once more eyed Jaime, “but of Tyrell blood.”

Brienne had glanced at Jaime over the shorter woman’s shoulders, and instantly she looked back down at Olenna guiltily. Quickly she schooled her features, “Marriage is the least of my issues, Lady Olenna. Besides, I cannot…dally with Ser Jaime,” she felt her face burning from embarrassment; “he is vowed to the Queensguard.”

Olenna’s thin-lined smile was not buying it, but instead of contradicting her, she stated confidently, “We can help each other. I can be a very good ally for you, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne nodded hastily, and Olenna raised her hand towards her son. As Mace dutifully took it, the older woman stated, “Now I must lie down, my old bones grow tired easily. Possibly we could have some tea soon to discuss the future?”

Reluctantly, Brienne agreed, not liking the ominous tone of the older woman’s voice. She watched warily as Mace led Olenna away.

She then noticed Pycelle and Keven as they glided away in the opposite direction, the older Lannister scowling in her direction. 

Her stomach clenched. Brienne would have initially thought that being rejected to wear the Crown a boon and a way out of this mess. But upon seeing and hearing the problems of the realm, she doubted that the smallfolk would even rank high enough for the council to act on their behalf, especially since she was the only one who believed that a harsh Winter was coming. No, the people needed her to be their voice if anything was to get done to help them prepare. But she was already so frustrated at these political games.

Gauging how irritated she was, Jaime turned to the other royal guards that were standing respectfully nearby and dismissed them. “I can look after Lady Brienne.” Jaime knew that she would be better at watching over herself, but she needed his counsel.

With a grin, Jaime tilted his head towards her. “I know just what you need, my lady. Come.”

Exhaling, Brienne nodded and then followed him down the corridor.


	6. Chapter 6

Grand Maester Pycelle shooed Kevan Lannister into his study and then closed the door before the Hands irritated personal guards could follow them in.

Kevan eyed the messy chambers and tried to mask his grimace as he took in the haphazard piles of dusty parchments and old plates of food that were growing mold. And by at the size of the droppings on the floor, quite a few vermin had visited these chambers recently as well. 

Pycelle pulled Kevan further away from the door, and the Hand barely tolerated the old maester’s touch, his fear of infection now three-fold. Especially when he spied the old bloodied bandage that laid on the ground. 

Smirking, Pycelle noticed the man’s look of disdain. “That is only Lady Brienne’s blood. It can’t hurt you.”

Kevan made a face and kicked the dirty rag closer to the large suit of dented, bloody armor that was propped in the corner of the room. “No, but she can if she gets wind of what we are discussing.”

Nodding, the maester glanced over at the few chairs that he had, but each was occupied with either his discarded robes or ancient texts. Instead, he motioned the Hand to the secluded corner by Qyburn’s old projects. Pycelle’s study had been cluttered even before the crazy ex-maester’s questionable experiments had been dragged into it.

As an added caution against being overheard, Pycelle whispered to Kevan, “So what do you propose we do about our almost Queen.”

“Short of her meeting a tragic accident, I do not know what.” He sighed, and Pycelle shared his disheartened look. Neither had any wish to do that. 

Trying to justify his disloyal words, Kevan stated, “Lady Brienne is too kind and honorable to be a good Queen.” 

Pycelle nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, she does have too much integrity for the job, definitely not cutthroat enough.” 

Pleased he had someone like minded to confide in; Kevan continued to rationalize his beliefs. “Exactly, she needs to be cunning and have a mind for politics. By her history, she has always shunned court life, a warrior through and through. All I have heard is how easily she bends a knee to those above her.” If only she would do so to them, it would make it so much easier, but the Thorn already have her arthritic claws in her by the looks of things. 

“What do you think?” Kevan had never figured out what Pycelle’s issue was with the Maid of Tarth; there had to be more.

The maester did not admit that the Lady Brienne was too unladylike to be Queen. He tutted to himself; a high-born woman should not be a warrior, especially one who was to rule. 

Instead, he said, “I have been around enough Kings to know what the realm needs and she is not suited for the role. And I fear that her ties to the North will also affect her judgment.” Pycelle exhaled a deep breath. “The latest news I have heard is that things are problematic up there, and I know she will insist on sending troops to help those traitors. The same troops that we will need here as things continue to deteriorate. It is only a matter of time before rioting occurs due to the mass influx of refugees.” The War of the Five Kings had been rough on all, and this was only the beginning.

“Agreed. Already there is much unrest, and she hardly seems the sort to rally others to her cause, let alone reassure the masses by her presence.” A thought then began to form, and Kevan nodded to himself as he rolled it around his mind.

Snorting, Pycelle said, “Regardless, sensing her kind nature, she will be eaten alive by the Crowns vassals and liege lords, all demanding she appeases them at once.” Caressing his wispy beard, the maester added, “Maybe there is some way we could discredit her to the others on the council, force them to accept another.”

Kevan shook his head and loudly sighed. “That would not work; they have already decided on Lady Brienne. You can see they view her as a means to assume control of the Iron Throne for themselves. We need another candidate.” He smirked as he thought of one who would be more amicable to their needs, and it was high time that a lion ruled anyway.

Noticing Kevan’s thoughtful expression, Pycelle asked hopeful, “Do you have someone else in mind?”

Kevan’s small smile became larger. “We need someone who is not already controlled by the council and who would not be swayed by them.” Seeing that he had the old man teetering closer to him in anticipation, he backed up and quickly stated, “I think my son Lancel would be perfect for our needs. Plus he has the remnants of the Faith Militant supporters that will come in handy down the line.” Besides, a Lannister should be King. His brother Tywin certainly deserved it and would have been a wonderful ruler.

“Hum, I do not think that the council would be responsive to that suggestion.” And by the tone of the old man’s voice, it sounded as if he was not sure himself. It was understandable; it had been a bloody fight of vengeance as Cersei’s Champion Ser Robert the Strong had viciously dispatched the High Sparrow and many of his most ardent followers. 

The masses would have rebelled against the Crown had the Queen not died so soon afterward. Unfortunately, she had killed her son the King and his wife, and their passing had left a power vacuum. They needed someone to pacify the smallfolk and high-born’s alike as soon as possible.

To soothe his allies concern, Kevan assured Pycelle, “If we get Lady Brienne out of the way now, the council would have to accept Lancel as an emergency interim ruler. We will assure them that his placement will only be on a limited basis. Then when his time is up, the ‘people’ would demand that he stay King, or they will rise in rebellion.” 

Even though they had been disbanded, the Faith Militant was still very popular with the masses. And while his son languished in a cell with the few remaining followers, there was word that other Sparrows were still around, but in hiding, waiting for a chance to once more rise forth. 

Pycelle was still unsure, “But will he follow our guidance?”

Smug, Kevan stated, “I am his father, I am sure he would listen to me over the others on the council.”

“But we barely got out of trouble with the Faith Militant the last time. Is it a good idea to put the second-in-command to the High Sparrow in charge?” 

“It seems that Lancel’s time with that old man had made him more receptive to authority, and I believe I can fill in that void nicely. I am his true father after all.”

Pycelle nodded slightly, and Kevan could tell that he was still reluctant. It mattered not. “What choice do we have, anyway? Either we go with a Queen, who will not listen to our recommendations and plunge the realm into ruin, or we go with a family member that would side with us before the others in the council.”

Put that way; the Grand Maester had no option but to agree. “It will be difficult to get rid of Lady Brienne. The Lord Commander of the Queensguard is very protective of her. He hovered over her as I treated her wounds yesterday.”

Frustrated over this, Kevan muttered, “I cannot believe how taken my nephew is with her. What does he see in her anyway?” 

Pycelle shrugged, “Well the feeling is mutual. She is infatuated with him as well.” He smiled slyly at the thought.

Hopeful, the Hand glanced over to Pycelle. “You don’t suppose they would marry and leave us be?” Kevan then thought of what his dead brother would say about such a thing and grimaced. It was a foolish question, and he flicked his hand away in a sign to disregard his words. “She is hardly worthy of the Lannister name, let alone being Queen of Westeros.” 

Irritated, he added, “We have to get her to step aside voluntarily.”

Pycelle grinned encouraged. “Maybe we tell her that a crow arrived from her father and that his health has taken a turn for the worse. She will have no choice but to rush off to his aid.”

“It would not work. The council would only insist on moving up the date of her inauguration before she left.” Kevan began to pace. “We have no other options. I am afraid the only way to deal with Lady Brienne, is to somehow get her out of the way.” The Hand indicated the cluttered desk with his chin. “Do you have anything among that mess of yours that might work?”

“I have things that can knock her out, even kill her. But how to get it passed her food taster?” As Pycelle picked among his things on his desk, Kevan grimaced. The man never seemed to clean off his desk, how could he hope to find anything among that mess? 

Kevan waved him off. “There are ways, maybe a prick of a needle.” He then scowled as the maester continued to pick daintily through the items on his desk. Glancing about the crowded room, Kevan could not believe that Pycelle had kept most of Qyburn’s notes and experiments. He grimaced as he once more spied the large suit of armor that still housed Ser Robert the Strong within. Pycelle really should get rid of that disgusting, smelly thing; it was very unnerving.

Trying to quell his impatience as he shoved useless items off his desk, Pycelle requested, “Give me time, and I am sure I can come up with a poison or two.”

The thought of doing such an act did not sit well with Kevan, and he began to pace. “No, not kill. Only something that would knock her out for a few weeks. Just long enough so that it would force the others to accept our suggestion about a different ruler.”

“The council would find some excuse to drag their feet until she got well.”

“No, not if the masses and court demanded a new ruler before that. And with Lancel’s connections, he would make sure that the people had spoken, and loudly.” Kevan stopped walking and bobbed his head to Pycelle. “The time constraints will work to our advantage in that matter. Say, if she slept for a long time, for the kingdoms sake, the council would be forced to agree on someone else. Someone who would be a better caliber of a Queen…. Or in this case, King.”

“For them to give up on her could take some time. And being unconscious for so long—“ the maester shook his head worriedly, “—there is the chance that she might not wake up ever again.”

Kevan thought a moment and reluctantly nodded. “Then so be it. Whatever was best for the realm.”

Suddenly, both heard faint scratching noises coming from the back of the room, almost as if from behind the walls. Each quizzically looked at one another. 

Pycelle shrugged. “I’ve been having an infestation issue lately.”

Sneering, Kevan pointedly looked about the room. “Yes, I am sure.”

“No, not of the vermin variety.” A curt Pycelle stated adamantly, “I swear that some things are disappearing from this room or are being moved about when I am gone.”

Kevan glanced about the shambled room and truly wondered about the maester’s senility. Granted, Pycelle was a testament of survival after outliving many Kings as well as Hands. But staring at all the odd objects that littered the maesters chambers, Kevan now believed the rumors that Pycelle had gone a little mad were true. Maybe it was time for Pycelle to retire after Lancel officially became King.

But he needed this ally now, so Kevan said in a placating voice, “I seem to recall that Littlefinger inherited Qyburn’s little birds. Perhaps they have been sneaking some of the ex-maester’s things away?”

Pycelle nodded absently, caressing his beard. “Or listening in as we speak. They would know where all the hidey holes and secret passages were in this old Keep.” He sighed loudly. “Yes, that horrible Baelish got Qyburn’s little birds, and I got everything else” He gaze took in the entirety of his cluttered room, from the jarred dwarf heads to the massive set of armor in the corner. 

Kevan grimaced and thought that Littlefinger definitely got the better of the deal. “On the chance, they are nearby, perhaps it would be best if we met on the southern ramparts tonight to finish our plans.”

“Yes, and by then I should have something that would indispose the lady for a while.” 

With a determined nod, Kevan excused himself and left the befuddled maester to himself.

*

Jaime must have known how upset Brienne had been from her conversation with Lady Olenna for she continued to stomp her feet as she stalked behind him.

Instead of mentioning the obvious, Jaime led her through the many corridors and side doors of the Red Keep. Brienne soon forgot her troubles when instead of his usual chatter; Jaime would sometimes glance over his shoulder at her, his cocky grin a siren’s call to follow.

Maybe he was afraid she would not follow him, but he needn’t worry, so with every fleeting look, his smile became bolder.

She knew they had reached the last door because now his smile was so wide, his eyes brightened to match. Her anxieties and fears had already started to abate after each backwards glance, and now she could not help but return his infectious grin. It became a gasp when he pushed open the door, and bright sunlight suddenly encompassed her, blinding her. 

Her eyes adjusted quickly and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She would have been fine if they had been heading anywhere but her stuffy chambers, but this was the complete opposite of the usual oppressive atmosphere of inside the castle. 

As if to help Brienne along, Jaime took her by the crook of the arm and pulled her outside and then down some steps. She could smell the ocean before she could see or even hear it. It was a scent that reminded her of home and not of the stench that permeated throughout King’s Landing. 

After traversing down the curve of the stairwell, they arrived on a large stone porch that overlooked the sea. On either side, she could see the city, but this area was tucked back far enough, that it seemed as if they were a great distance away from the noise and smell of the town. Brienne exhaled another deep breath and relaxed. She instantly knew that this was a safe spot.

Jaime interrupted her peace with a breathy exclaim, “I know. Wonderful isn’t it. And we’re very secluded.” He walked to the edge of the short stone wall and glanced down. She quickly followed him to the brink and followed his gaze. It wasn’t quite a sheer drop, but one should not risk the jump. She then noticed the private beach to the side and tracked the stairs that led down to it.

“Bronn and I used to spar here.” Jaime now stared at her, seemingly pleased to be sharing this secret sanctuary with her.

At the mention of sparring, Brienne perked up even more. She then noticed the two tourney swords that rested against the borders of the colorful plants that dotted out from the cracks in the surrounding walls.

“I might not be as good before I lost my hand, but I assure you I have gotten better. Would you care to spar with me, my lady?” He did a proper bow to her.

Brienne beamed and could not help the light laugh that escaped her lips. He certainly knew her well. Swiftly she bobbed her head. “Yes, I would love to.”

“And your shoulder is alright?” He asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

She stretched her shoulder and felt the briefest of pulls against her stitches. “Barely a nuisance,” she replied back challengingly. Nothing would stop her from sparing with this man. Suddenly feeling playful, she once more took in their surroundings. “It is rather a romantic spot,” and she smiled crookedly at him.

“Hum, I never saw it as such. But you are right, the view is breathtaking, but we should not let it distract us as we spar.” Jaime was surprised to see a brief look of disappointment cross her features. 

After a thought, he excused himself for a moment and left the area. Brienne glanced at the beautiful setting but frowned when she did not see anything to change into. She hoped he had run off to get her something she could fight in.

Except for the huge grin he wore, Jaime came back empty handed. “Well, that’s been settled.”

She frowned at him. “What has been? And where are my breeches and tunic?” 

“I requested a surprise for later, and you are to fight in what you are wearing.” He tossed her a tourney sword, and then picked up his own.

She automatically caught the dull blades handle, and mindful of her dress, she held it awkwardly from her body. “This is impossible to fight in. At least let me go change.”

It was Jaime’s turn to scowl at her. “You have to be able to defend yourself in a dress.”

Brienne scoffed at such a notion.

Jaime’s frown became a cheeky smile as he took a fighting stance. “What? If someone tried to kill you, you would say, ‘Oh, excuse me a moment, Ser Assassin, I need to change into my other clothes?’ No. You need to get used to wearing dresses and defending yourself in them.”

Though she reluctantly agreed with his reasoning’s, it still seemed a bit much. When she mimicked his pose, she found it difficult to crouch. “Battling in a dress is not fair.”

“Then we are even. I am still learning with my left hand. You will just have to learn to adapt as I have.” His tone was challenging and true to her nature; Brienne accepted his dare.

She grinned and nodded. “Then I look forward to trouncing you into the dust.” 

Their blades met cordially with a slight clunk, then each pulled back, ready to engage the other. As Brienne swung, she felt a pull on her arm from the tight fabric across her back and then a ripping sound as the seam from her dresses shoulder stitch burst free. The tug and the sudden freedom caused the force of her blow to falter, and Jaime easily parried her attack.

She tried to compensate, but got caught up in her under skirts and stumbled forward. 

Jaime sidestepped her as she flailed past him. Barely righting herself in time, she then felt his sword sharply whack her behind.

Mortified, she pivoted and nearly fell over again. Jaime was kind enough to let her steady herself, though it looked like the only reason he had stopped was because he was too busy laughing at her.

“Well met, your Grace.” He bowed slightly to her, his eyes mirthful.

Though outraged, Brienne still had enough foresight to hike up her skirts this time. Unfortunately, it meant that she only had one hand to use to fight with.

With more freedom of movement now that her shoulder seam had busted, she once more attacked, this time going low. 

Jaime blocked her hit and lunged at her in return. She leaped back and nearly slipped when she stepped on the hem of her dress. Though there was the sound of another rip, she had adjusted her position enough so that he did not have a chance to whack her again this time. 

Now it was her turn to grin. Jaime nodded pleased and once more she attacked.

Both traded a few more blows, and then Jaime again went to lunge. This time, she used her skirts to her advantage and whipped them around to meet his blade. As they wrapped up his weapon, she then pulled him towards her, pinning his sword arm to her side. Now her dull blade rested against his throat.

Each panted hard and grinned at the other.

“Even better, your Grace.” His eyes not only reflected pride but a hint of pleasure.

Brienne untangled her dress from his sword and stood back at the ready. Though her attire was cumbersome, she was adapting, and she felt proud of herself, her confidence growing. She glanced down and smirked at her torn and dirty clothing. At first, she had been wary that she might damage her dress, but now the thought no longer bothered her.

Once more they began.

Slowly she got used to fighting in a dress and with each hit met; she became bolder, and her blood began to sing. She had missed this. Brienne recalled a time when they had first fought. Of when he had both his hands and that he was her equal in every way. 

Alas, times had been cruel, but it seemed that in some ways they were both equals once more. Granted she was not at her best in such bulky clothing, but then neither was he with just his less dominant hand to fight with. 

Soon, with each in the rhythm of the bout, playful banter was only a matter of time. But Jaime seemed to have other ideas on what to tease her with. “So, what did the Thorn want? Anything I should worry about?”

Brienne momentarily faltered on her swing, enabling him to get under her blow and once more land a hit to her backside. She had a feeling she was going to be bruised there. Normally she would not mind if it had been gained from a fair fight, but he was cheating. 

She growled at him in anger and swung for his head.

As he ducked, Jaime chuckled. “That bad, your Grace?”

Enraged, she began a flurry of blows that Jaime blocked until the last one that he expertly caught between his golden thumb and fingers. She tried to tug the wooden blade free, but it would not pull away.

With no choice, she let go of the blade. But instead of moving in to grapple as she normally would do, Brienne held up her hand to signal the need to catch her breath. The dress was tight in the bodice to accentuate what little she had, so it made breathing more difficult. One more thing she would have to take into consideration whenever she fought, she supposed.

Jaime stepped back to give her space.

After wiping sweat from her brow, she indicated his metal hand. “I see you have found another use for that golden hand of yours. It makes a fine blade catcher.”   
He could not help but quip, “Yes, it does come in handy.” 

She chuckled at his jape, but it sounded forced. 

Since her grin did not match her eyes, Jaime’s voice became one of concern, “Tell me about Olenna’s demands, Brienne.”

Anger once more overwhelmed her as she recalled her discussion with that shrewd older woman. “What, you did not overhear what she had said to me?” She asked spitefully between pants, but her animosity was not aimed at him. “The Thorn wants me to marry Loras so she can stay in power.”

He nodded. “I figured that would be the crux of it.” He seemed upset as he yanked her blade free and tossed it back to her. After barely finished nodding that she was ready, Jaime came at her.

He suddenly swung down hard at her. She met his blade, and did a spin to return the hit, but got tangled in her dress again. She cursed herself. She had to remember that it was not just surroundings she had to be aware of, but now what she wore. This time, she ripped more of the cloth free, uncaring of the finery and beautiful stitching.

“You do not have to worry about Loras.” Though obviously still mad, Jaime sounded regretful. “He had been a fine knight until the Sparrows of the Faith Militant tamed him. The proud young man you once knew is no longer there.” Now he fought less fiercely, and the conversation became tamer to reflect his actions. 

“But I don’t want to marry him,” Brienne recalled the Knight of Flowers, who she had bested at Bitterbridge and how angry he had been when Renly had made her one of his Rainbow guards. He certainly was not the one she wanted to wed.

“It is expected that once you take the Crown, you are to marry. The people will demand it, so why not take a man you can easily control and have nothing to fear of?” As if sensing her indignation, he added, “And the people would have demanded it from any unmarried King as well.”

“I fear no man and wish to control none.” Now she swung hard at his head, and Jaime barely ducked in time. She could not stop herself when she spat, “Some of us cannot hide in the Kingsguard to shirk their duty.”

Now his grin was calculating, “Oh, there are other ways to get out of one’s duty.”

“How?” As curiosity overcame her, Brienne pulled back her next hit, and it lightly whacked against his blade.

With a laugh, he chuckled, “Become a Silent Sister.” 

She snorted at his jest, and a truce was momentarily called as both took a step back to catch their breath.

“I do sympathize with your trouble, Brienne. Granted, I went to drastic means to get out of having to wed, but honestly, I feel unfulfilled now,” he added with a sad mutter. His eyes now gazed into hers miserably, “I had three children, none of which I could claim as my own. None of which I could raise and be a father too.”

She wondered if it was because his sister was no longer alive that he felt these regrets. Cersei had seemed to be his reason for living as they had made their perilous way through the Riverlands and away from the horrible Brave Companions. “Then renounce the Kingsguard and take your place at Casterly Rock. Take a wife. We could commiserate together about how unfair it all is.” But her heart broke at the thought of him with anyone but her.

Smirking, he signaled that he was ready to continue the lesson. “Now you sound like my father. Are you sure you are not a Lannister?”

She grinned ferally at him. “No, I am a Tarth.” And she attacked him once more.

They battled until both were dripping sweat and exhausted. Then after an especially vicious bout - both wanted to best the other to end this - their tourney swords were knocked from their hands and sailed over the side of the short wall.

They barely registered the sound of the splash as their weapons landed in the sea. 

Instead, they gasped for breath, each still measuring the other. Brienne figured this was the only drawback to being so close to the ocean, retrieving issues. She then recognized something in Jaime’s eyes and saw that the competition was not over. Instantly, he lunged at her, and they grappled, each wrestling to force the other to submit.

Not used to fighting in a dress, Brienne suddenly found her legs tangled up and then kicked out from under her. When she fell backward onto her back, Jaime landed on top of her. Brienne then felt the press of a small dagger against her throat.

“Yield.” Jaime panted out.

Reluctantly she nodded, but there was still fire in her eyes. As the dagger was pulled back, Brienne could not help the soft laugh that escaped her lips. “Well met, my lord.”  
Chuckling, Jaime gazed deep into her eyes, and she got lost in his. Softly he admitted, “And to you, too, my Queen.”

Unfortunately, his words broke the spell and Brienne was forced to remember her new role. She scowled at the reminder of her duties. For just a moment she had forgotten her new responsibilities and had relished the freeing feeling of swordplay. Barely containing her resentment, she tried to make it sound light when she said, “This is not a very dignified position for the almost Queen.”

Pulling back startled, Jaime cleared his throat. Helping her to her feet, he gallantly bowed to her. “You did well, your Grace.”

She shook her head, “I would have had you too.”

He almost said something, but instead, he only smiled. “Wait right here.” He then slowly moved towards the stairs that led back to the Keep. She did not know if the limp he sported was for her benefit or if she left her mark on him as he did on her.

Soon, Jaime came back with a bundle of clothes and a blanket tucked under his right arm as well as a basket held in his left hand. He took in her ruffled appearance and ripped dress and stated, “I do not think you’d want others to see you like that.” He then handed her another beautiful, regal dress. This time it was an emerald green, and she thought of the gallant knight before her, whose smoldering gaze held her rapt attention.

When she took it, a look of loathing was clearly on her face, “Yes, it does not befit a Queen to be unclean.” She sounded bitter, and Jaime agreed solemnly.  
He held up the basket as if it was a peace offering, “I thought lunch on the beach would be a nice way to cool down.” She brightened somewhat at his words. “But maybe it is best that you wait to change until after eating.”

Glumly she nodded in agreement, resigned to her new role.

Smiling sadly at his friend’s obvious abhorrence, Jaime indicated with the tilt of his head for her to follow him down the steps that led to the beach below.


	7. Chapter 7

The ocean looked so inviting; Brienne was tempted to chuck off her ruined dress and dive into the refreshing water to cool off properly. But she was not home and swimming in her small clothes was not something royalty was supposed to do. At least there was no issue of impropriety in regards to footwear. The sand on the beach was a fine white powder, and even with the sun beating down, it got barely hot to the touch. Now her bare toes clenched the silkiness of the sand between them, and she sighed in comfortable relief.

Though she had yet to change out of her clothes, Jaime had already removed his gold breasted armor and gauntlets. They lay nearby, the sunlight bouncing blindly off the reflection. Grinning, Brienne wondered if it would soon be hot enough to barbecue meat on it.

After the blanket had been laid out, Jaime very dutifully began to unpack their lunch. Even he was surprised by the repast in the basket.

With his chin, he indicated for Brienne to pour them some wine. Filling both of the goblets to the brim, she handed one to him. They smiled to one another and raised the cups in salute. Jaime exclaimed, “To escaping our responsibilities.” After each had taken a hearty sip, they tucked in and began to eat.

As they dined on cold boar, fresh bread, various cheeses, pickled beets, and stewed root vegetables, they chewed thoughtfully. Now and then, they would exchange a slight smile and then quickly glance out at the idyllic ocean. Brienne did not know why she felt like a shy young maiden all over again and took another big sip of wine to remind herself that she was, in fact, an adult.

Finally, Jaime broke the silence, his metal hand waving around them, “I have never been down here before. It is very nice.”

“Oh, too focused on sparring to notice your surroundings?” Brienne teased lightly.

His grin was wry as he stated, “Yes, I was too busy getting my ass handed to me. Bronn is a rather vicious sparring partner, even cheats worse than I do. He has no honor what so ever.” Jaime cheekily glanced at her and was surprised to see her staring introspectively out at the shimmering water.

At his inquiring stare, she finally admitted, “I am beginning to believe that honor is overrated.”

Jaime barely stopped himself from spitting out his drink. As he studied her, “Yes, still tow-headed and stubborn, but are you really my wench?” Receiving no smile or at least a frown, Jaime relented, “Alright, I’ll bite. Why?”

She shrugged and took another gulp of wine. The coolness was refreshing. “What good has it gotten me so far?” She chuckled warily, “Honor or not; no one trusts me to rule them anyway.” 

With a knowing grin Jaime stated, “True after they demand a moral person to lead them, they then claim that person would not have the spine to make the hard decisions. Yes, it is a tricky balance. But honorable is who you are, Brienne, you cannot give up on that. Though I am curious in what instance you would change your notorious ways. Your pledge to protect the Stark girls, perhaps?”

“No, that one I would keep.” She quickly drank more wine. “I was thinking more of my chastity.” 

This time, Jaime did spit out his drink in surprise. He then reached over and took her nearly empty cup of wine away from her. “You have had far too much of that and not enough food.”   
He rummaged through the basket and came across a container of strawberries that were for dessert. He offered her one.

As she took it, she smiled and then popped it in her mouth. Like the wine, it was a sweet and flavorful. After eating a few more in silence, she shrugged. “I guess over the years I have used honor to keep my distance from others. Alas, over time it seems to have become more of a yoke that I will never be rid of.”

“It is better to have honor to lose than to have none at all. You know how people talk,” Jaime replied quietly.

Now her fingers were drawing aimless patterns in the fine sand. “Actually, I think I care too much what other people think of me.” She knew she always projected aloofness for protection, but her skin had never been as thick as the armor she wore, and people’s words could still cut so deep. Brienne glanced over at Jaime and shook her head. “I think we both care too much what others think of us.”

She lay back on the blanket and stared at the blue sky above.

Jaime grabbed a handful of sand and let it spill from his fingers. “I find depending on my day; overthinking can be an issue. As well as how much I allow in to wound me.” He smiled at her and then lay down beside her. “What has brought this sort of thinking along?”

She shyly glanced his way, then stared back up at the blue overhead. “Regrets that arise when I am forced to do things I wish not to do.”

“Such as marriage.” Jaime automatically filled in the missing piece.

Her tone was sharp. “Yes, such as marrying a man that I have no feelings for. Of lying under him out of duty and not from love. Duty be damned.” She slammed the flat of her palm into the sand.

Brienne was obviously holding something back, so he cautiously asked, “What happened to you up North? You never said.”

She bit her lip, now refusing to look at him. “My time up there was an eye-opener. I had never been in a big battle before and what I saw-- let us say that the romanticism I had once felt towards being a valiant knight, was dashed to nothing. Good men died around me so some bastard could defend something that did not belong to him. Good people murdered over something so unnecessary. Thank the Gods we had won, and a true Stark is once more in power.” 

Though it had been her first battle, she had hoped it would be her last.

The senseless and brutal combat had been so horrifying that day that it seemed as if she had watched herself fight for survival from afar. She never wanted to experience anything like that ever again. Hell, she barely had from all the wounds she had received. Maybe as Queen, she could finally bring peace to all of the lands.

She brushed the tear from her cheek as if it had been an affront.

Jaime pursed his lips. “I have been in a few conflicts myself, Brienne. The depravity that one sees – “

Her voice became hoarse when she confessed, “I did things up there that I never believed myself capable of, Jaime.” 

She tried to mask her haunted gaze, but Jaime saw through it. She forced herself to continue, though wondered why she bothered since nothing could be changed. She blamed the wine and the sorrow in her heart. “So when I was released from my pledge, I had decided to deal with a personal wish. I had made one last vow, this time to myself. I would seek out the truth.”

His curiosity peaked, he softly asked, “What vow, Brienne? What did you seek?” He almost sounded hopeful.

She shook her head and instead stated, “It matters not anymore. Now I am to fulfill a new role that gives me nothing that I hoped to put to rest.” She exhaled a deep breath and forced a smile. “But enough of such talk. I am on a beautiful beach with my good friend, enjoying his company and the view.”

Jaime only nodded and became introspective over her words. Brienne could tell that he wanted to ask her more questions, but she knew he would respect that she had changed the subject for a reason. 

Clearing his throat, she noticed that Jaime’s eyes twinkled as he said innocently, “Well, I must say you did very well in protecting yourself in a dress, your Grace. But there are places for improvement.”

Grateful that he did not pursue the topic of her past anymore, she chuckled weary, “I nearly bested you, until you cheated.”

“True, but you know how unfair life is. Especially since you will be Queen, and all the more will be out for your blood. You will always be unarmed and without any swords nearby for use.”

In a conspiratory low voice, Brienne confided, “Actually, I was thinking about hiding weapons throughout the castle.”

Jaime grinned intrigued. “Ah, like a treasure hunt for survival.”

She turned to face him, and eyed him appreciatively, loving how his eyes danced in the sunlight. He truly was like a handsome knight from her childhood fantasies. Quickly quelling her emotions, she said, “But I’ll need your help in finding locations. Plus you might need them yourself.”

“Oh, I am always armed.” When he flexed his hips at her, she was proud that she only slightly pinked in embarrassment at his audacity.

Instead, she covered her mortification by mockingly stating, “I doubt much damage can be made with such a tiny prick.”

His eyebrows shot up, but his surprise was short lived. With a pleased expression due to her challenging words, he said, “Ah, but it begets three children, so maybe it is not the size that matters, but the strength of use?”

Though it was harmless flirting, Brienne could not help but feel warmth in places that she normally did not feel from. She then amended that thought for it wasn’t always true, because the proof was lying next to her. She had had many wonderful dreams about Jaime; ones that helped her get through the cold winter of the North.

It was depressing and frustrating that she could never confide her hearts desires to him as she had originally planned. She wondered for the thousandth time what he thought of her and if he shared the yearnings that she tried so desperately to keep hidden. She internally snorted. What good was it anyway, neither could do anything about it, but still she had to know. 

She asked quietly, “Did you ever think about leaving the Queensguard?”

Jaime’s smile became sad, “I wouldn’t know who else to be,” then his voice became husky and he stared in her eyes solemnly, “Nor would I trust anyone else to do my job.”

Brienne gulped at his honest sincerity, then nodded quickly. Yes, who was she fooling? They all had roles that they needed to play.

But a small voice asked why that was all she allowed herself. She was to marry someone she did not love, so why could she not also have Jaime ‘on the side?’ Chiding, she reminded herself that was not who she was, what neither of them was. Regardless of what she had said earlier, she was still too damn honorable, Brienne thought spitefully, and so was he.

No longer wanting to toy with something she could never truly have, Brienne sat up to gaze out at the ocean. Jaime’s sigh sounded a bit like longing too, but he settled back onto the blanket and closed his eyes in contemplation.

With Jaime feigning a slight snore, Brienne glanced around the tranquil area. So close to the water, one could not smell the stench of the city; it seemed that the wind kept it nicely at bay. There was even the slightly sweet smell of wildflowers in the air. She took another deep inhale and let it out. The action and fresh air helped to settle her stomach and her thoughts. She kept her voice low, “It is easy to forget that the Crown of Westeros is just behind us. I can’t even smell the city now.”

Barely opening one eye, Jaime could not help but tease, “Not even the wind would dare cross Queen Brienne.”

Snorting, she took another deep calming breath. It was so peaceful and relaxing here. Now, she found herself easily forgetting all the pressures and troubles that rested squarely on her large shoulders. She turned her head and smiled at Jaime shyly. Once again she owed him so much. 

Sensing her gaze, he turned to her and grinned cockily, “What?”

She quickly looked away, but then forced herself to look back into his emerald colored eyes. “Thank you.”

Now it was his turn to glance bashfully away. She could see him take control of his feelings, and he smiled sincerely at her, his gaze once more enrapturing her. “You’re welcome.” No quips this time, only honest sincerity.

Clearing her throat, she fingered her sweaty and ripped dress. Though it was well-made, even it could not withstand her destructive ways. “I feel bad that I ruined my dress.”

He shrugged. “You are the Queen. Besides, the royal seamstress knows to expect to do some mending. And don’t worry; I’ll take this to her in secret. No doubt this would be frowned upon if any find out you have been sparring.”

“I’m sure they already know.” She was no stranger to gossip and with Littlefinger always nearby; she was sure he knew exactly what was going on down on the beach. “I cannot wait for them to start their insinuations.” She flopped back down on the blanket rather unladylike. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jaime sullenly stare at his golden breastplate that rested nearby.

Jaime said, “You were never groomed for court intrigue.” It was a matter-of-fact pronouncement.

Gazing at him, her tone was indifferent, “I wanted other things, and my father never had the heart to me make face such venom. He was always so protective of me. I guess I took some advantage of that.”

Brienne stopped studying Jaime’s handsome features and glanced downwards, “But in this case, it should be easy to maneuver through court life. I just have to be wary of everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Jaime smiled at her, and she felt blessed to have him in her life. “And not to worry, in no time you should be able to defend yourself verbally in court.”   
Smirking he continued, “Though there will be other instances that you will have to watch out for.”

She groaned. “What else is there besides worrying about backstabbers in court?” 

He took in her incredulous stare. “Alright let us say that you are eating a magnificent feast, and someone tries to kill you up close.”

She stared at him and flatly announced, “I would stab him with whatever implement I had in my hands at the time.”

His serious look was ruined by the slight grin that creased his features. Nearly biting down on his cheek, he asked, “Even if you held only a dessert spoon?”

She nodded vehemently. “Especially a spoon. Why they are good for scooping out eyes, even innards.” 

Jaime could no longer contain his mirth. He laughed. Making a decision, he stood up and held out his hand to her. Though Jaime made himself appear innocent, it was obvious that he already had something devious planned.

She raised an eyebrow, and he smiled. “Trust me.” 

“How could I not.” She replied with a grin and took his offered hand. He easily helped her to her feet. 

“Try this scenario then. Let us say that you are dancing with one of your liege lords.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her in tight. He then took her hand in his and rested his golden hand on her waist. She went as stiff as a board.

Jaime pulled back enough to admonish, “Relax; you are as solid as a plank. Truly you have danced with others before?”

Brienne nodded briskly and took a deep breath. She did not admit that she had only danced with her father and Renly. She tried to ease her shoulders and hips, but his presence was making it difficult for her. It did not help that he continued to whisper reproaches in her ear.

“You need to loosen up, or you’ll scare off your prospective suitors.” She thought she was doing better, but then he added, “You’re libel to tip over and crush someone. You need to relax.”

Remembering breathing exercises from her sparring practices, she felt herself getting more fluid. 

Pleased, Jaime then began to lead them around the beach. 

At first, it was a bit difficult to waltz in the sand without shoes. Besides, it had been a long time since she had someone other than her father as a dance partner. It did not help when Jaime began to hum music lightly in her ear.

But soon they were circling and twirling, and Brienne was transported back to that time when Renly danced with her. It was easy to get lost in Jaime’s arms, and she allowed herself to imagine that she was that young woman once again in Evenfall Hall, but it was Jaime who she danced with this time. She recalled all the jealous glares from those who watched them, but now her focus was only on the man in her arms. 

As if still locked in the past, she could almost hear Renly’s aristocratic voice come from Jaime’s lips as he lightly purred into her ear, “Did I already tell you how amazing you look in your dress, Queen Brienne?” 

She could barely control the gasp that came out from his actions, and she wondered if Jaime suspected how she felt about him after all. Instead, she made herself titter, “This old thing, Ser Jaime.”

The soft rejoinder was stated amusingly, “Remember, I am not Ser Jaime.”

She could not help the laugh that escaped, “Oh, yes. Well Ser Assassin, I wear only the finest gowns.”

Before she could say anything else, Jaime grasped her tighter. His breath ruffled the fine hair by her ear, and she shuddered from the heat of it. In a gruff whisper, he continued with the scenario, “Now it turns out that the cad really wants to kill you and take your throne. And suddenly you feel the press of a small blade to your back. What would you do?”

Still wrapped up in the illusion, she barely stopped herself in time from kissing him. Instead of doing what she really wanted to do, she huskily replied, “Then I would do this.” And she suddenly knocked his arms down hard and then pinned them to his side as she hugged him tight enough to squeeze his breath away.

As he was helplessly crushed to her small breasts, she raised him enough that his feet dangled. She glanced at his purpling features. Jaime was trying not to laugh while at the same time gathering a breath. “Do you yield, Ser Assassin?”

He could only vehemently nod, and she slowly released him. As he got his footing and breath back, he gasped out, “I like your diplomacy skills, wench.” He licked his suddenly dry lips and pulled back enough to state seriously, “But I could have still stabbed you.” 

Still lost in that thought, she dreamily said, “Then I am sure that my honor guard would have had my back.”

Something seemed to darken his gaze, and Jaime bitterly spat, “You will not have Ser Robert the Strong to defend you as my sister did.”

She was so busy still fighting back the urge to kiss him that she did not register his anger. She stated wistfully, “No, I have someone better, you.” 

By his startled reaction, she realized she had actually said her interior thoughts out loud. As she turned bright red, Jaime smiled, and his light chuckle was one of pleasure, not of mockery.

He grasped her hand, “We have each other.”

After exchanging a coy smile, both turned to once again view the amazing scenery. Together they gazed out at the ocean, each lost in pleasant thoughts. 

Her thoughts strayed to another man she had pined for but could never have. But unlike Renly there had been a hope with Jaime. And it took nearly dying up North to realize this. A courage born from facing death had made her want to seek him out, to confront the feelings she had for him. 

Alas with her new responsibilities, she realized what she had wanted no longer mattered. The worse was it appeared as if maybe Jaime felt something for her as well. If it had been another time, she would have been happier. She wished they could act on their feelings now, but she would just have to be satisfied that he felt the same for her as she did for him.

She had subsided on less with Renly, so she could certainly make do with Jaime.

But it was just so damned unfair.

Her anger overwhelming, she knew she shouldn’t stay here any longer. She began to leave, the excuse already out of her mouth, “I should go, there is still so much to do.”

Jaime grasped her hand and tugged her to sit down with him. “You are not Queen yet, Brienne. Sit down, please. I promise the sky turns an amazing color as night approaches.” 

His eyes looked as miserable as hers. Maybe he also realized the futility of their infatuation. “It would be too beautiful not to share.”

Brienne smiled sadly and sat back down. Taking a chance, she rested her head on his shoulder. Both then watched as the day slowly became night. But neither of their thoughts was focused on the beautiful sight before them.

Jaime sighed as loudly as she had. She guessed he had a lot on his mind as well. In silence, they continued to sit together and watched until the vibrant sky darkened.

*

Brienne found that when she thought of her time up North, it tended to infringe on her dreams during the night. The usually suppressed imagery came back, but her fears changed their triumphant win against Ramsay to his victory instead. This time, she could not protect Sansa from that bastard and his vicious dogs.

She woke to the loud pounding on the thick door to her chambers that matched the beat of her thudding heart. Barely raising her head, she was already reaching for Oathkeeper’s pommel.

A tall blurry figure strode into the room and shouted, “Lady Brienne, wake up.” 

Only after recognizing Jaime’s frantic voice did she stop herself from pulling her blade forth. Though her eyes were still rusted with sleep, she made out his gold breasted uniform.

Her mind felt thick with cotton, and she automatically grasped the edge of the sheet to pull it up higher. At least he had the foresight to knock first before entering.

“What is it, Ser Jaime?” She croaked worriedly, and she coughed to clear out the cobwebs that seemed to reside in her throat.

The lamp he held shone brightly, and she could see that he had been up most of the night. His jaw was unshaved, and his hair was skewed as if he had been harshly tugging on it.

“It’s my Uncle Kevan.” He could barely control the sorrow in his tone. “He and Grand Maester Pycelle’s bodies were just pulled from the ocean. It appears as if they had fallen from the ramparts to their deaths.”

Brienne was wide awake now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you for your wonderful comments and suggestions! I added a few sentences that I hope make their motivations towards one another make sense.
> 
> Also, Jades had a great point. Alas, I tried to find a place to put in here about Jaime talking to his Uncle Kevan, but it did not fit in what had been written. I will try to address that next chapter. Thanks for the suggestion Jades, appreciated it!
> 
> Frankly, everyone's support has been great and I really appreciate it! Honestly, around the holiday's I find it difficult to write, so your words really help me continue with this. Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

Brienne had barely rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tied the sash around her robe before Jaime once more entered her royal chambers and whisked her away. An emergency council meeting had been called moments prior, and Brienne was sure she would not be the only one in attendance half asleep. 

With the belt tails from her regal robe flapping behind her, Brienne trotted after Jaime. Thankful for her long legs, Brienne was still slightly out of breath as Jaime purposely marched them down the corridor. 

The honor guard did their best to keep a protective shield around her, but it was proving difficult for them to all stay together. Ser Blount was especially having issues with the brisk pace. 

Blurrily recognizing the hallway they were in, Brienne recalled that the doors to the council chambers were just down the hall. Though she was pleased with being cognizant enough to identify her surroundings, other things took precedence over self-congratulations.

Making a decision, she tugged on Jaime’s arm to get him to stop. He nearly jumped at her touch and then glanced sheepishly at her. As they slowed down, Brienne was able to take in his appearance. Having been up since the bodies of his Uncle and Grand Maester Pycelle had been fished from the ocean, he was even more exhausted than she was.

Even in his disarrayed form, he could still take Brienne’s breath away. 

“Yes, your Grace?” He asked, his haunted gaze constantly darting about in anticipation of any possible threat coming her way.

She was too tired to correct him. “Jaime, I want you to head the investigation into what caused their deaths.” 

Now he halted. His frown was a deep line that took away some of his god-like appearance. Quickly glancing up and down the corridor, Jaime pulled her aside to a recessed alcove. The other guards instantly formed a barrier, their backs to them to afford some privacy. 

“Brienne, my duty is to keep you safe. I cannot do both.”

“And you are the only one I trust to uncover the truth. Your Uncle and Maester Pycelle were the opposition to my rule, and the people on the council had every reason to want them silenced. If they died by another’s hand, how do I know that Baelish or the Tyrell’s won’t try to hide or manipulate the evidence to cover up their culpability?”

Jaime ran his gloved hand over his features in exasperation. Brienne made sure that her blue eyes reflected the necessity of her request. He gruffly nodded. “I will see what I can do, Brienne.”

She tightened her grip momentarily around his bicep in thanks. Releasing him, she sighed loudly and indicated for them to continue.

In a few moments, they were in front of the large ornate doors of the council chambers. Jaime opened them and escorted Brienne in. He was even more diligent, and his sharp gaze took in everything and everyone in the room. 

His eyes only stayed long enough on those present to discern that they held no threat to his Queen, and he moved aside so she could pass. 

As Brienne made her way to the head of the table, she gauged the occupants of the room. They appeared to be cranky and displeased to be up so early in the morning. She wondered if they were at all upset or concerned about the deaths as she was.

Lady Olenna and her son still wore their sleeping robes, and though Baelish was properly attired, his usually pristine facial hair was askew.

Jaime held out her chair and moved to the side after she sat, ever vigilant.

Once Brienne took her place at the head of the table, Baelish gave her a sincere smile, and then spoke to those around the table, “It is a sad day for the Kingdom. I wish to call for a moment of silence in honor of our two esteemed colleagues.”

As all bowed their heads reverently, Brienne thought Littlefinger did not seem all that morose. He almost sounded relieved that the two men who opposed his schemes to get her in power were gone. 

After exhaling a breath to signify the end of mourning, Littlefinger continued, “I have taken it upon myself to do some investigating in regards to their deaths. From what I can discern, it had been extremely windy upon the ramparts last night. No doubt they lost their footing and fell to their deaths.”

Brienne heard Jaime’s exhale of disbelief. Even Lady Olenna side-eyed the repellent Lord of the Vale. This was just what Brienne feared.

Clearing her throat, Brienne stated to those present, “Though I appreciate your inquiry, Lord Baelish, I have tasked Ser Jaime Lannister to lead the investigation into their deaths. There are too many questionable circumstances, and I want all possibilities looked into.” 

“Though I assure you it is not my place to tell you what –“ 

Littlefinger ‘s voice was so condescending that Brienne could barely restrain herself from reaching over and throttling him. Instead, she interrupted through gritted teeth, “Good.”

His sneering smile tweaked a corner of his mouth. “But I must remind you that you are not Queen yet.”

No, only when it suited your needs, Brienne thought, trying to disguise her irritation.

Baelish must have read her expression because he took on the air of sincerity. “But if it would make you feel better, then let me handle this. Frankly, I think my men are better qualified to chase down any leads, no matter how… insignificant they may be.” 

When Brienne began to protest, Baelish coyly interrupted her, “No offense, but Ser Jaime is just a glorified bodyguard.” His piercing gaze now took in the glowering man who stood beside her seated form. “He seems to be only good for protection and energetic … sparing.” He now stared knowingly at Brienne. It was not hard to miss his silent message that he knew exactly what happened between her and Jaime yesterday on the beach.

If he was trying to embarrass or intimidate to control her, he had another thing coming. Others had tried that tactic on her and failed. She always survived with her honor in tack, while often they were soon missing a few teeth. 

Though Baelish read the hostility in her gaze, he still would not back down. “There is also some question about Ser Jaime’s ability to even protect those he is entrusted with.”

His words could have easily been seen as a veiled threat, and not a jape. Regardless, Brienne was tempted to let Jaime use his golden hand as a battering ram against Baelish’s face. 

Though Brienne was quick to ignore any disparaging remarks about herself, even she had a limit when a friends honor was questioned. “You dare watch your tongue, Lord Baelish. An affront to my guards is an attack on me.”

The smaller man’s hands rose up in a placating manner, “I meant no disrespect, my Lady--.”

She rode over his false words, “And I believe Ser Jaime is the most qualified to handle such an investigation.”

Still, Baelish would not concede the point. “Well, he is certainly not nonpartisan, Kevan Lannister was his Uncle.”

Of course, it also helped that she was very stubborn. “All the more reason he would want to find out how such a travesty occurred.”

A sleep-deprived Olenna ground out, “Lord Baelish, I agree with Lady Brienne. Let Ser Jaime handle the investigation.” Her son, Mace, snorted awake and then blurrily went back to dozing. 

While Littlefinger glowered, Brienne nodded her thanks to the older woman. Focusing on Jaime, “Tell us what you know?”

“So far there is not much to report.” Baelish’s scoffing noise was easily heard. Jaime glared at the seated man for a moment and then continued, “The maesters are examining the bodies now. So far they are unsure if some of the bruising and broken bones had been caused before the fall or from the rough seas dashing the bodies against the rocks.” He swallowed in bereavement, and added, “They are also checking to see if poison might have been involved in their deaths. But it is proving to be difficult with the amount of damage done to the bodies.”

Lady Olenna asked, “What did the Hand’s guards say? Why was he without them?”

Exhaling, Jaime explained, “The lead guard said that they escorted the Hand to the upper ramparts and that he seemed agitated that no one else was there. He then ordered them to wait back at the entrance.” 

“The guard did not think it odd that he wanted to be left alone up there?” Baelish’s accusatory tone set Brienne’s teeth on edge. She noticed that Jaime was barely reining in his temper.

Frowning, Jaime slowly nodded his head. “Yes, he did, but they must do as they are ordered.”

“Then what happened, Jaime,” Brienne quietly asked. She had seen how his left hand had clenched when the guard’s honor had been called into question. They were good men.

Appreciating her supportive guidance, Jaime said, “They said they heard yells and rushed up to help. But by the time they arrived, the ramparts were empty.” 

As Brienne pictured it in her mind, she nodded absently. “So, they didn’t see anyone else there?” 

“No, no one. The area Kevan had been in has only one way to approach. And the guards swear that they did not pass anyone when they raced to that location. Nor was there any evidence of blood or of anyone else having been there. At the time, they did not even know that Maester Pycelle had also gone over, too. Currently, we are looking for any secret passages, but have yet to find anything.” 

“Well, it is obvious that Pycelle had used one to access the area.” Littlefinger sounded as if he was getting frustrated by the time being wasted. 

A sleepy voice suddenly injected, “Or what if Pycelle had been there earlier, killed and then tossed over. Then the killer was waiting for Kevan and killed him next?” Mace sounded like he was actually into the mystery of it.

Nodding pleased as if to a simple child, Olenna then patted Mace on the hand, “Good point, but the killer still had to escape the ramparts without being detected.” She then looked at those present, and Olenna rubbed her chin in contemplation. “Did it ever occur to you that they might have wanted to kill each other? They both had strong personalities, and maybe they argued over a disagreement.” 

“Doubtful, they both had a common goal.” Littlefinger pointedly stared at Brienne, but would not delve further into his cryptic words.

Jaime shook his head in irritation, “Then other than a suicide pact, why would they want to die.” He took a deep breath. On his frustrated exhale, he rubbed his temples. “All this leaves is murder. Someone must have purposely thrown them over the ramparts knowing that the damage from the fall and the sea below would hide any evidence of how they were killed or by whom. Honestly, anyone could have done it.”

“It is impossible to kill two people that fast and then dump the bodies just as quickly. Maybe they were both bewitched and decided to jump together.” Littlefinger mocked to Jaime.

Olenna’s smile was all teeth, and she aimed them at Jaime, “Well, you cannot believe I could have done such a thing. Your Uncle and Pycelle were not small. Why I can hardly lift my head in the mornings.” 

Brienne tried not to grimace at that exaggerated point, but it was true. Actually, not too many people could lift a grown man over a parapet. And since everything pointed to it being murder, that was the sticking point. But then maybe it was not one person who had done this, she thought. Many could have worked together and then disappeared back into the walls. She had heard of Baelish’s ‘little birds’ and wondered if his flock had anything to do with this.

Directing them back to the current situation, Brienne said, “I saw Lord Kevan and Maester Pycelle leave the council meeting together yesterday, any idea where they went?”

Jaime was obviously frustrated that he had no discernable answers, but with her question, he became focused once more. “They went back to Pycelle’s study. Supposedly spoke for a bit, and then the Hand left the maester alone in his chambers.” 

The Thorn asked, “How did he seem to the lead guard when he left?”

Too exhausted to quip, Jaime said, “He thought Kevan seemed distracted, but he did not leave on bad terms.” 

Absorbing the information, Brienne nodded to herself. “Well, keep us apprised.” 

Jaime did a slight formal bow, and Brienne could not read his expression. It seemed as if something had drained from his features, and it bothered her that she could not decipher what was bothering him. But then he had lost so many family members in such a short period of time. Maybe it was wrong of her to ask him to personally lead the investigation into his Uncle’s death. She hoped no old ghosts came up from this. She needed Jaime too much, and it would upset her if she unwittingly caused him any distress.

Baelish’s coy voice broke through her concern, “Which brings us to their funeral.”

Before he could continue, Brienne said, “Yes, for that I would like to grant Lancel Lannister a pardon for his crimes so he could attend. Losing a parent should be punishment enough.”

Littlefinger’s voice was all honey, “You have a kind heart, Lady Brienne. But perhaps a pardon is too lenient.”

Lady Olenna rolled her eyes at his obviousness. “I am afraid Lancel still has too much sway over the remnants of the Faith Militant. I agree he can go to the funeral, but afterward, he is to continue his sentence in the dungeons.”

Brienne almost argued, but Olenna did have a valid point. Besides, Brienne realized she had to learn to pick her battles better and did not want to push her luck with the older woman. She acquiesced with a nod.

With that agreed upon, Baelish brought up next, “Now in regards to the funeral, I suggest we hold it as soon as possible. With so many arriving for your coronation at the end of the week, it would afford us to have the funeral sooner than later.” 

Brienne reluctantly agreed until Baelish added, “And it should be held tomorrow morning.”

She nearly sputtered in outrage, and Jaime barely held his tongue, but the hiss that escaped him was worthy of a large, angry snake.   
Brienne quickly countered, “But I am sure others on their way here would wish to attend.”

The Thorn nodded placatingly and stated, “True, but we cannot have it overshadowing your coronation, my dear. It would be most unseemly.” The Thorn siding with Littlefinger made Brienne all the warier.

Brienne quickly glanced at Jaime and then back to the group. “Then have my coronation postponed until next week.”

A bored Mace finally seemed to rouse himself awake enough to denounce, “No! I mean, no. Everything is set up already, and we so do not want to disappoint anyone.”

Trying to cover for her overly anxious son, Olenna, empathically agreed, “Yes, yes, we should have the funeral tomorrow. We need to bring in the new monarchy with happiness, not ruin the festivities with death hanging over our heads.” 

Brienne heard Jaime grumble, “Yes, must not ruin the mood.” If the others heard his reproach, they ignored him.

Even without Jaime’s castigation, Brienne found the whole thing suspect. She wondered if maybe the Tyrell’s were working with Baelish in more ways than one. 

Maybe she needed to check on things for herself. She found she trusted her eyes more than what she heard, anyway. Quietly, Brienne stated, “Let me first see the bodies and then I will make my determination.” 

Jaime stiffened by her side as the others reacted aghast.

Affronted, Olenna said, “I am sure the maesters have seen to everything, my dear.” The reprimand in the older woman’s tone nearly made Brienne back down.

But Brienne was adamant, “I need to do this.” Even as a young child, she had always demanded tangible proof. Never the greatest with words or a turn of the phrase, she had trained herself to believe in what she saw, not the lies of a false tongue. She was a straightforward thinker, and all these machinations behind the scenes were too distracting, and frankly getting annoying. 

Brienne remembered forcing herself to look at her brother Galladon’s drowned corpse as well as her two sisters who had died so young. It was the pragmatist in her. It was also how she dealt with the unknown and the uncontrollable in her life.

Lady Olenna was pale as she admonished, “But why, my dear. There is no need.” 

But by the stubborn gaze aimed her way, the Thorn knew Brienne would not listen.

Littlefinger’s voice was quiet, cautious. “There is a reason it will be a closed casket, my lady. What was not pulverized from the hard landing was dashed repeatedly against the rocks until found this morning. And they were in the ocean long enough that they are a bloated, swollen mess.”

If he thought she had never seen worse, he was sadly mistaken. Indignant, she corrected him, “I was raised on an island, Lord Baelish. I know what the sea can do to a body.”

Baelish obsequiously bowed, but Olenna was still appalled. “Do as you wish my dear, but remember that you cannot do such things for much longer. There are examples to be set as the Queen.” Upset, Lady Olenna creakily stood and then hobbled out as fast as her arthritic limbs could move. The retinue of her guards quickly followed behind her and her son.

Brienne tiredly rubbed her eyes and then glanced over at the silent Jaime. As she began to stand, Baelish stood as well. 

To Jaime, he commanded, “I need to speak with Lady Brienne alone.”

Jaime crossed his arms, his left hand hovering over the pommel of his sword. “Not going to happen.”

Exhausted from the games and the early hour, Brienne waved him back. “It is fine, Ser Jaime.” 

Anger flared in his eyes, and the smile he aimed at her reminded Brienne that Jaime was not one that liked to be denied. Instead of leaving the room, he retreated near the main doors, but his gaze was ever watchful.

Trying to salvage the situation, Brienne called out, “Though don’t go too far, I might have need of the trash being taken out.” Her caustic response was obviously aimed at Littlefinger. She would never forgive Baelish for leaving Lady Sansa to that sadist Ramsay Bolton.

Littlefinger feigned ignorance over what she implied. 

Jaime cheekily smiled at her. “Just don’t eat anything offered.” Though his tone acknowledged forgiveness, his gaze was hard. Still, Brienne felt a little better by his response.

Baelish smirked at Jaime’s words but then spoke low enough for only Brienne to hear.

“Though I am sorry for their deaths, it is just as well that they are gone, your Grace. They were openly plotting against you.” Registering her incredulous stare, he continued, “It is true. Ask Lady Olenna. They knew they could not control you, so they were conspiring to do you in. Why else would they meet in secret at the ramparts when they had spoken earlier in Pycelle’s study?”

She had a feeling that not being able to manipulate her was one of the reasons why they did not want her to be Queen, but still, she didn’t think that they would murder her over it. They did not seem the treasonous sort. “I hardly think they would conspire to kill me over something like that.”

Baelish shrugged, “Regardless, they seemed to think that you were not worthy of the position. Naturally, I believe you are perfect for the job.”

Gods did she want to box his ears.

But she also wanted to be Queen, needed to be the sovereign, the protector of the people. Unfortunately, there was so much that still had to be done before she was crowned and she needed his support, so she had best tread carefully. Once she was Queen, then it would be a different story. 

Now Baelish was studying her as if she was a succulent meal and she involuntarily gulped. Sincerely, he stated, “Now that Kevan Lannister is gone, you will need a new Hand.”

Brienne had hoped she would have some respite before Baelish tried more games on her. This all the more proved that she could never trust him. This odious man only cared about what was best for him.

She recalled Lady Sansa begging Lord Baelish to bring the Vale troops back to join the fight against the bastard Ramsay before the big battle, but he never came to her aid. If Blackfish Tully and his soldiers hadn’t arrived at the last moment, they would have all died that day.

Figuring out the timeline, Brienne realized that Cersei and Tommen had died the day Sansa had rejected Littlefinger’s first offer of help at Mole’s Town. He must have then heard the dire news regarding King’s Landing’s monarchy and rushed here to circle the corpses to try to gain control the situation. 

Feeling far too smug for himself, Littlefinger overlooked the glare she had tried to shield from his knowing gaze. “Make me your Hand, and I will protect your back. I have birds everywhere to keep an eye on things.”

She could not help but bite out, “Yes, I am curious where your little birds were when Kevan Lannister and Pycelle fell from the ramparts.” 

If he recognized the dangerous tone of her voice, he ignored it. Smiling, he smoothly said, “I have heard nothing about last night until I was woken this morning.”

It was hard to tell what was false or truth from his thin lips. “Don’t you think that odd? Maybe your little bird’s wings have been clipped?”

Now he did frown as if rethinking his conceptions about her. “Contrary to belief; there are some things I know nothing about. All I know is that those two were conspiring against you. And there are others who continue to do so now. Make me your Hand, so I can help you better.”

“I am not queen yet, how can I?” It was her turn to act ignorant.

He easily rebuffed her words, “Don’t play coy, Lady Brienne. You have proven to be smarter than you let others perceive you to be.”

She acted as if she was pleased by his words, but inside her stomach rolled. As she dramatically rubbed her temples, “So much has happened; I need time to think.” 

“Do not take too long. Not only am I good at finding information, but of suppressing it as well.” He pointedly glanced over at the fuming Jaime.

Before she could deny anything, Baelish formally bowed. “Good day, your Grace.” As he retreated from the room, Jaime glared at him.

In two strides Jaime was by her side. “Do not trust that man, Brienne.”

“I already know about his duplicitous nature, Ser Jaime.” She haughtily stated. As she began to stalk to the door, she tried to rein in her anger. She could not help but feel insulted that Jaime would think her such a dolt. But that was unfair. She knew that a part of her irritation was due to Baelish being such an ass. He could not even wait for the bodies to be interned before already proposing that he take the place of Kevan Lannister. All the more it pointed to Baelish’s guilt.

Brienne stopped, unsure which way to go. So much for a dramatic exit. She sighed tiredly, “Which way to the bodies.” 

Jaime indicated for her to follow him and he led her to some nearby steps. 

As they marched down them, he pressed his earlier point, “Then why do you allow yourself to be open to Littlefinger’s machinations?” As he walked beside her, the others in the guard quickly fell in around them. “You do realize why they want the funeral over as soon as possible. This way all their double-dealings to gain favor with the other Houses would not be interrupted. We must not let it ruin the festivities my ass!”

She tried to make her words sound light. It was not his fault that politics put her on edge. “Yes, I did figure they had some ulterior motives to push for it so soon.” But she had a feeling something else was underlying his anger, “What are you really upset about, Jaime?”

His loud sigh nearly made her stop in her tracks. “You need to let me do my job in protecting you, Brienne.”

She had not realized she had ruffled his feathers so, “I am sorry if my sending you away from Baelish upset you, Jaime. Honestly, I am not used to others fighting my battles for me.” She tried to sound flippant but failed miserably. What could she say; she had been a warrior before she was Queen, and had never been a diplomat.

He groused, “King Robert was the same way and look what happened to him. I mean it, you are not to be alone, nor are you to eat or drink anything unless it has been tasted by another.”

“Jaime, no one is going to try to hurt me. Kevan and Pycelle were the only ones who did not want me to rule, and that was because they thought they could not control me as the others think they can.” 

Still, he was adamant, “You cannot be sure of that. And I am having the guards on the council members increased as well.”

They stopped in front of some small dilapidated doors. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” He asked her, and Brienne wondered if he had seen his Uncle since he had been fished from the sea.

Though she was resolute, her mouth downturned on the ends. Exhaling, she nodded to him quickly, and Jaime pushed open the door for her.

As she walked past him, she heard him softly admit, “Please be careful, Brienne. I cannot lose you, too.”


	9. Chapter 9

After the maesters had realized there was nothing more they could discern from the corpses, the bodies of Lord Kevan Lannister and Grand Maester Pycelle were released to the Sept. 

The clergy pondered on what had been given to them, and began to do what they could with the remains. Even though the deceased had been dashed repeatedly against the rocks by the violent sea; it was hoped they could still be made presentable for the upcoming funeral. It was a respectful gesture, but it proved to be futile.

So they then tried laying a shroud over them. Alas, it was decided that the uneven lumps under the cloth were too distracting, so a closed casket became the best option.

At least the funeral had been postponed for two days. Lady Brienne had been able to convince the obstinate council to push back the event in reverence of those who had passed, so more could attend. She had stated that not only had one been the Hand of the King, but that the other was the Grand Maester, who had advised many different rulers for many generations.

Though Jaime was indignant that the funeral rites were not following the proper timeframe to honor the dead, he was grateful that Brienne could get the council to wait a bit before they held the service. 

Regardless of all the platitudes and condolences foisted Jaime’s way, it seemed to him that the council was trying to cover up what had happened to two of the more influential members of the board. 

When he inquired as to the cause of death, the maesters were adamant that the landing had been what killed them. They reasoned that the annihilation done to the torso and head was due to the sharp rocks below. Jaime wondered though if some of that terrible damage could have been caused by something else, but the maesters would only shrug whenever he asked his pointed questions.

This made the indifferent council even more inflexible, and they insisted the deaths had been accidental, and that murder had not been the cause. It was all too suspect to Brienne. She still asserted that they wait until Ser Jaime had looked into all possibilities before she would order the case closed.

Jaime knew regardless of what was said by the maesters and the council; it was still too convenient that the two most ardent opponents to Brienne’s rule had been killed at the same time and locale. The law of averages just did not add up. And he knew there had to be some clues as to who killed them, something had to be out there, but Jaime had yet to discover what.

He had searched everywhere and had found no evidence of maleficence. It was as if magic had killed them. But he dared not admit to such things; otherwise, he did not know how he could protect the one he truly cared for.

Alas, with nothing to go on, it was beginning to appear that whoever did it would get away with murder.

Staring at the gold inlaid coffin before them, Jaime could not help but feel defeated. He tried to stand proudly beside his future Queen in the Sept that midafternoon, but he could barely keep his head up. The crowd of grievers and onlookers for the funeral seemed to press around them, as did all the unanswered questions. All the more, he felt like a failure. Once more he had failed his family and loved ones.

Furthermore, Lord Baelish’s words about Jaime’s inability to do his job right still stung. The repugnant man had been correct; Jaime had not been able to protect the various Kings of Westeros. At least four had died by his count and one he had actually killed with his own hands. Even people who were not rulers had died while he either was the Lord Commander or a member of the Kingsguard. His sister, his daughter, and now his Uncle. It was those times when he should have stepped in, gotten involved and made a difference. These instances had haunted him the most. 

Tiredly, he glanced about the stout, circular room, wishing for something to happen, anything that would quell the tumultuous thoughts that buffeted against him. As if the Gods had heard his mental plea, the echoing murmurs of those present and those within, finally settled down when the Septon began the service.

Jaime surreptitiously glanced at his Queen. She wore all black as did everyone in the Sept. Her tall frame bowed slightly at the waist in respect, her gaze focused on the floor.

Silently, Jaime vowed that he would never allow anything to happen to her. Unlike the others he had guarded over, he promised that with his last breath, he would defend her to the end.

Maybe it was because she was the only one who truly believed in him, even insisted at the worst of times that he still had honor, that he had made that silent pledge to her. The others had either seen him as a pawn to use against his father or as a figurehead to be derided and controlled.

But not Brienne, never her. And she had proven her mantle when he had sent her out as his last chance for honor. She had succeeded in keeping their oath when she had helped put Sansa Stark back in power at Winterfell. 

He wished he could talk to Brienne about his thoughts, but there never seemed to be any time for either of them. 

When he wasn’t standing by his Queen’s side, guarding her during all those interminable meet and greets with the arriving guests that the council insisted on, he was personally leading the investigation into the two suspicious deaths. 

Jaime frowned at the large crowd of nobility. Even with only half the arrived guests for the coronation present, the Sept was filled to capacity. This was such a mummer’s farce to Jaime, for the majority of the guests seemed more intent on soliciting Brienne’s favor than expressing their condolences. 

Already Jaime’s harsh glare had scared away the lower Houses who had sought Brienne’s favor as he escorted her from the Keep to the Sept this morning. It was improper etiquette not to wait until the day of the coronation when all would be properly introduced to their new Queen. They had claimed they wanted to pay their respects personally to her, but by their crafty leers, it was obvious that they were lying. It brightened Jaime to see the usual dour Brienne smile at him in weary gratitude when he had chased the cowards away. 

Now, these guests stared at her, and it was almost as if they were gauging Brienne’s reactions to see how they could use it for their benefit. Any little crumb dropped their way, and they were on it like ravenous rats. All these highborn parasites seemed to leech Brienne’s strength away, a little every time. 

It concerned him that Brienne appeared so exhausted. Her normal crisp blue eyes had dulled with fatigue and worry. These past few days had been so grueling for her. She never complained, though. Jaime tried to tell her not to let the council member’s bully her into overtaxing herself, but when he had first brought it up the other day, she had said it was her duty so she might as well get used to it.

Earlier, Jaime thought that if they both could escape, even briefly, that sparring might help their moods. But the thought now felt wrong, what with his Uncle’s murderer still out there. And frankly, his heart just wasn’t in it anymore, and he questioned if hers was as well. 

Glancing over at Brienne, he once more wondered what she thought of his declaration just before they had seen the bodies. He hoped he had not scared her off.

She would not look him in the eyes since then, and he hoped he had not erred. But honestly, he had felt so vulnerable then, so scared that he would lose her. Especially with Baelish’s spiteful words of his incompetence still ringing in his ears. He was heartened to see that she did slightly pink whenever she caught him staring at her.

Exhaling, he made himself focus on doing his duty and not worrying about something he could, nor would ever take back. Warily his gaze scanned those gathered nearby for any signs of trouble.

Jaime saw Lancel standing stoically by his father's closed casket, head bowed. Four bored guards stood around him, making sure he did not try to escape. Though he had been allowed to wash and had been graciously given new clothing, Lancel still looked like an unrepentant man. His sullen glare did not even acknowledge Jaime’s presence. Jaime had a feeling his cousin's anger did not include wanting revenge on those who killed his father. He was probably trying to figure out a way to get word to his followers.

And there were probably a few Sparrows in the audience. They undoubtedly hoped to find relief being among the Gods who they worshiped. Jaime smirked if that was the case; they were probably wilting like the rest of them. The Sept was stuffy and already the midafternoon sun was heating up the inside. Jaime felt the sweat tear down his back and snorted that at least some part of him could weep.

Granted, the day after his Uncle’s body had been found, guilt had assailed Jaime. He should have known something was wrong. After he and Brienne had talked on the beach, he visited his Uncle to discuss why Brienne would make a perfect Queen for the realm. Instead of greeting Jaime’s opinion with an open mind, his Uncle had become livid and had demanded that Jaime leave him be immediately. 

That abruptness was not like his Uncle, but Jaime had been too stunned by his Uncle’s harsh rebuttal to comprehend this. And then his Uncle had been killed shortly afterward. Sneering, Jaime refused to believe the lie that his Uncle plotted against Brienne, it was just the sort of untruth that Baelish would spread to cause strife. But something had been going on between his Uncle and Maester Pycelle, and it had upset Jaime that he could not figure out what it was.

But now as Jaime stared at the closed caskets, he found himself getting increasingly numb. This malaise soon settled over his limbs, making everything around him move so much slower. He supposed this was due to all the deaths that had recently bombarded him.

Frankly, he could not believe that another family member had died. Though he had never been that close to his Uncle, he was still his father’s brother. All the feelings of helplessness from that horrible time of his father’s death and his responsibility for allowing it to happen reared back up and nagged at his conscience.

Thinking of his father, he heard Tywin’s voice demanding an heir, and Jaime nearly snorted out loud. The irony that the Lannister line would probably die off now was almost too rich even for him. Only he, his brother and Lancel were left in the immediate family. Of the three of them, one was a wanted fugitive, while the other was stuck in the dungeons, and both would undoubtedly be killed sometime soon. And as a member of the Queensguard, Jaime certainly could never marry. 

All the more he had never felt as alone as he did now. Not that long ago, he had always had his sister to retreat to when these dark thoughts surfaced. It truly did feel as if a part of him had died when Cersei poisoned herself. 

It killed him that he could not save her or his youngest son. He always wondered if he had claimed his children, if that would have spared them death at such a young age. But his sister was greedy and would never have allowed that. She had wanted that throne for herself, and when it appeared that she would never get it, she took away their son and soon herself. He wondered how much of it was done out of sheer spite.

Honestly, he never believed that Cersei was insane enough to kill their last son. He bitterly reflected that no one could have saved his sister, not even her champion, Ser Robert the Strong. Not if she was always so damn determined to do things her way. 

Jaime shook his head. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He had a job to do, and if that was all that was left in his life, then he would do the best he could at it. The honorable woman next to him deserved at least that from him.

As the Septon droned on with the final rites, Jaime caught Lady Olenna staring pointedly at Littlefinger, who was doing his best to ignore her leveled glare. Those two indeed posed deeper scrutiny over the death of the Grand Maester and the Hand. Both had much to gain with Brienne being made Queen unopposed.

When the funeral service finally finished, and he could almost hear the collective sigh of relief. The heat was becoming unbearable. 

With it now officially over, Brienne righted herself, and Jaime knew this signaled that she was ready to leave. Except for this time, she caught his eye and surreptitiously glanced at the coffin. He barely shook his head but smiled at her consideration in case he had wished to stay longer.

With a determined exhale, she and her honor guard left the Hands personal guards behind to keep vigil. Tomorrow, Kevan Lannister’s body would be taken to Casterly Rock to be interred next to his brother’s in the subterranean crypt. It seemed to Jaime that accused mountain was where all the Lannister’s ended up. 

Meanwhile, Grand Maester Pycelle’s remains would be sent back to the Citadel. The Sept had to be made ready for the upcoming coronation, and it would not do if the lingering smell of death were still fresh in the air for such a joyous day.

As Jaime escorted the exhausted Brienne from the Sept, he had hoped to get her back to the Red Keep without any problems. 

Exiting the large doomed building, he saw that the top of the stairs down to the road was lined with nobility, ready to intercept them. Jaime bared his teeth at those crowding before him, emitting a low growl of anger. Quickly he motioned the honor guard forward to form a barrier to keep the sycophants at bay.

*

Brienne groaned tiredly at all those who waited outside the Sept like vultures ready to pounce on her.

But then Jaime motioned with his golden hand, and half of her guards fanned out, forming an armored wall. As they blocked the nobility from pressing forward, it enabled Jaime to lead her and the remaining guards down to a small side street.

All her guards were at the ready for any signs of trouble, and Jaime’s gaze diligently scanned their path, looking for any dangerous situations or suspicious persons.

Even though they had changed the route, some of the lower liege Lords still managed to discretely follow them. Just as Brienne’s party made it to the exterior gates of the castle, the few desperate Lords converged upon them. Without the pretext of the funeral, Brienne supposed she would have to talk to them.

As she resigned herself to the fact, Jaime snarled to the simpering nobility and their sellswords, “Lady Brienne is tired and is in need of rest. Take up whatever grievances you have with the council.”

They almost did not give way, but when Jaime and the other guard’s hands touched their pummels, the highborn meekly let them pass. 

As they headed deeper into the Keep, Brienne breathlessly stated, “Thank you, Ser Jaime, I appreciate it, but I was hopeful I could go anywhere but my chambers.”

Jaime’s eyes never stopped looking around. “I understand, your Grace, but they would find you no matter where you hid.”

“Even our secret spot?” Her voice had a slight lilting tease to it, and Jaime smiled.

Shaking his head to negate the pleasure he felt that she considered it their spot, he reminded her, “If Littlefinger knows about it, then I am sure for a price he would let others know. Besides, his little birds seem to have our scent.” He ticked his head behind them, and when she turned, she spotted a small shadow dart into a recessed alcove.

She glumly nodded at his reasoning.

And speak of the Other, just as they neared her chambers, Littlefinger oozed from the shadows to block their path. His haughty stare caused Jaime to pause momentarily, but the Lord Commander stood his ground.

Catching the resigned look in Brienne’s eyes, Jaime could not stop himself, “Your Grace; you are exhausted.”

Lord Baelish sneered at him. “I will only keep Lady Brienne for a moment.” And he took her by the elbow, attempting to pull her away. As Brienne fought the urge to yank her arm back, she quickly cautioned Jaime with a hand that she allowed it, but just barely. 

She was tired of Baelish’s games and did not mind that her face reflected her impatience. Once more she wondered if the council was purposely keeping her busy so she would be too worn-out to fight them on anything more.

Already Baelish and Lady Olenna had parceled out her favor to any of value who asked; and kept her too busy to spar or even have any time to herself but eat and sleep. Honestly, she was going mad with the constant bombardment of gentry begging for her favor. To her, it was poor taste that she was being inundated during this time of mourning. Only because she wanted everything to run smoothly before her coronation, did she put up with it. 

Brienne wished she could talk to Jaime, but after his declaration about not wanting to lose her too, she felt odd around him. And honestly, she was just so bloody tired, and she did not want to deal with it now.

“I have been speaking with the Tyrell’s, and we agree that your coronation will occur at the end of this week.” His calculating look studied her, “Now have you thought more about what I said earlier. You need someone as Hand, someone such as myself.”

She feigned indignation, “Lord Baelish, I hardly think it is right to ask that when the previous Hand has yet to be interned.”

He surreptitiously nodded, acting as if he was not at all surprised by her reluctance. “The sooner you decide, the sooner I can help you. Though you have mine and the Tyrell’s support, there are many who do not think you worthy of being Queen.”

“I understand, but I hardly think that choosing a Hand before my coronation would help to endear them or change their minds about me.” He appeared to be ready to interrupt her, so she quickly added, “I admit that you are the most experienced for the position, and that will have to be enough for you.” She allowed her exasperation to bleed through. 

He growled out, “For now.” He then squinted up at her, wondering if her words were true. “I have heard much about your vaulted honor, my Lady. I hope that being made Queen does not cause you to forget who brought you into power.”

Oh, she knew damn well about that, they never let her forget. Instead, she obsequiously nodded, but her voice held a slight edge, “Of course my lord. I know just how well you help people. Now if you will excuse me.” She had yet to figure out the best way to get this man to leave her alone. Though it left a poor taste in her mouth, she figured she had better get some blackmailing material on him, and soon.

Lord Baelish had no choice but to let her pass. She was too big to try to intimidate by his presence, but there might be other ways. He studied her as she retreated towards her chambers, and how the Lord Commander concerned gaze followed her as well. Nodding to himself, Baelish thought that maybe what he needed had been right in front of him this whole time.

Jaime scowled at the calculating man before him. As Brienne approached, Jaime promised, “I will make certain that you are not disturbed by any more nonsense.” He then opened the door for her and after she entered, closed it shut behind her. He then crossed his arms and stared at Baelish, daring him to try to push him.

Littlefinger snorted at Jaime as if he were nothing. He turned on his heel and scuttled away to some other dark recess of the Keep.

*

Brienne leaned against the door tiredly. Eyeing her bed, she stumbled towards it.

She wished Jaime would have followed her in. But in hindsight, maybe it was just as well. She could not afford to have any malicious gossip generated just before her coronation. Baelish and the others would undoubtedly use that against her in some awful fashion.

And honestly, she was unsure what she should say to Jaime. He had looked so sad during the service. She had wanted to reassure him that she was not going anywhere. But it made her head swim when she thought of what might have been between them had she not been made Queen. Maybe it would be best if they just ignored what he had said.

Collapsing onto the soft mattress, she grabbed a large pillow and hugged it tight to her body, squeezing it until she felt her muscles tighten to the point of pain. Finally, she released the tight coil of her body, hoping that the exercise would help her to relax. Alas, she found that though her mind was too fuzzy and jumbled from exhaustion; her thoughts were still constantly churning. In irritation, she now stared up at the wooden beamed ceiling. Frowning, it appeared as if a small spider had taken residence above her headboard. The intricate web ruffled when her exasperated exhale reached it.

Frankly, she did not know what she was going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you for your continued support! You are wonderful!


	10. Chapter 10

A short time later, there was a light knock on her door, and Brienne sat up hopeful that it was Jaime.

“Come in.” Automatically she fluffed out her dress as she stood up. Then she chuckled to herself for such behavior. Since when had she cared what she looked like? Since you were made Queen and Jaime showed an interest in you other than friendship, her rebellious mind answered. 

Instead of who she had hoped it would be, it was Beatrice, the royal seamstress who entered. Her assistant carried the beautiful dress Brienne had sparred in days past. And one that she had promptly ruined from her vigorous actions.

Both women curtsied to Brienne, who fought to automatically not follow suit. “My lady, we are sorry to bother you, but were wondering if you have time to see how your repaired dress fits.”

“Oh, hello Beatrice. Yes, of course.” Brienne tried to sound pleasant but was wary. She wondered why Jaime had let the woman in. He knew she hated anything to do with dress fittings.

If the kindly older woman noticed the dark rings around Brienne’s exhausted eyes, she kept it to herself. Instead, she flicked her hand to her assistant, “Go down to the kitchen and bring us up some tea. My special blend. And have that big oaf Blount taste it first, or Ser Jaime will not let you enter with it.”

The young girl curtsied and dashed off. 

As Beatrice made a pretext of brushing nonexistent crinkles from the repaired dress, she kept a worried eye on Brienne.

“My dear, let me help you with your attire.” She motioned the giantess over and helped her remove her regal black funeral gown. Brienne was too tired to insist on doing it herself. After placing the black dress onto a hanger, the seamstress then assisted Brienne into the mended dress. Once the beautiful blue gown was on her, Brienne sagged briefly from the perceived weight of it all. She missed the comfort of her armor and the simpler life she once had.

Beatrice’s calculating gaze took in how well the dress hung on the taller woman’s frame. “My lady, noticing the damage to the shoulder seam, I have added a hidden pleat to allow for more maneuverability.”

She indicated for Brienne to flex her shoulders. Sure enough, it easily moved, and Brienne smiled genuinely. 

Beaming pleased, the older woman nodded. “Good, good. Alright, now lunge.”

Brienne frowned but did as requested. The flair of the gown seemed to miraculously expand, and nothing ripped. She also noticed that the dress rode up enough that she would not step on the hem. “This is amazing.” Brienne gushed.

Beatrice grinned and said as an aside, “Yes, he was quite correct about your reach and distance of step.”

“Who was?” But just as Brienne asked, she knew who had made these suggestions, and smiled coyly. Jaime, it had to be Jaime. Once more he was looking out for her, and her smile grew. “Ser Jaime?”

As Beatrice nodded, she affirmed, “Yes, he was very emphatic about what he wanted for all your gowns. We were not sure how the new design would fair until you gave it a test. At first, I thought it ridiculous, but now I see the merit in what he was saying. Ser Jaime wanted you to be able to fight as best as one could in these monstrosities.” 

Brienne laughed delighted at the description and the chivalrous behavior of her friend. 

As she lunged and stretched, she glanced over at Beatrice, who was nodding her approval. Brienne asked, “For the bodice, I was thinking that a steel plate there could protect my heart.”

Beatrice scowled, “It will be heavy.”

Nodding, Brienne assured the older woman, “I have worn armor for years and would appreciate the feel of safety once more.”

Beatrice sighed unsurely, but said, “I will see what I can do.”

Brienne smiled her thanks and went back to testing the dress. There was a small knock on the door, and the young assistant rushed back in with the tea. As the seamstress prepared the tea, Brienne took the time to marvel at the stitches. “I cannot believe this fabric. It is so soft, yet it stretches easily.”

Dropping in a cube of sugar, Beatrice stirred the tea. “Yes, Ser Jaime insisted that it should be able to move and conform to any sudden motion.”

Brienne was so touched by Jaime’s kindness that all the concerns she had about her relationship with him evaporated. 

Maybe Beatrice saw something in the future Queen’s eyes. “He does look out for you, my Lady.”

Brienne nodded thoughtfully. In a place where she could only trust a few people, she could not alienate one of her best allies and friends.

Noticing Brienne’s turn to introspection, the older woman smiled knowingly and then snapped her fingers at her assistant. “We go.” Registering Brienne’s startled expression, Beatrice smiled and indicated the tray of tea on the table, “Please try the tea; I think you will enjoy it. There is enough for two if you so choose.” 

After they both had curtsied, they left with armloads of gowns that also needed to be altered.

As the door began to shut behind them, Brienne noticed the gold armor of the Lord Commander of the Queensguard standing proudly outside.

Making a decision, Brienne opened the door and ushered Jaime in. 

“Yes, your Grace.” He asked hopeful but quickly schooled his features.

After closing the door behind them, she pointed to the tea service on the table. “I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

As Jaime awkwardly glanced around the room, Brienne grasped his hand in hers. Again she intoned gratefully, “Thank you for always looking out for me.” 

His wistful gaze studied her, and a grin fleetingly caressed his lips. He curtly bowed to her in reverence, “Always, my Queen.”

With a coy smile of her own, she released his hand and then stepped back, indicating for him to sit. As she poured him some of the fragrant tea, she said carefully, “I think things are a little strained between us now, but I want you to know that I will always cherish your friendship and honesty.”

He seemed to relax somewhat at her words and nodded. “I never want to make you feel uneasy.”

“Never, I trust you, Jaime. You mean the world to me. With you by my side, I never feel alone.” 

She shared her secret smile with him, and he appeared temporarily dazed at her choice of words. It seemed that there was a shift in his eyes from sorrow to hope. He grinned back at her pleased. It saddened her to add, “I wish we had been in a different circumstance so that things could be otherwise between us.”

Exhaling, he dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, I do understand the position we are in, and truly wished the same as you.” With a look of resolve, he said determinedly, “But all you ever have to do is ask, and I will gladly do anything for you.”

His earnest declaration made her momentary pause. She then realized what he was saying. Her breath caught at what he was suggesting. That he would willingly go against his vows to be with her in secret if that was what she ever wished for him. But she could not ask him to go against the honor that he had worked so hard to rebuild. 

Instead of happily screaming “yes” to his words, she solemnly said, “Thank you. But I could never ask that of you; it would not be fair to either of us.”

He took in a deep breath, “If not that way, then please tell me how else I can help you, Brienne.” 

Smiling, she nodded in relief. If he had pressed her, she did not know if she could have said ‘no’ again. “I have need of your counsel, Jaime. Littlefinger is continuing to pressure me about becoming my Hand.”

Jaime balked at the idea. “I am not surprised. That bastard has always wanted far above his station. You know that putrid man could never be trusted in such a position?”

She nodded, “Oh, I have no doubt of his lies and duplicitous nature. Frankly, I need something to use to my advantage to make him back off.” She carefully looked at Jaime, “I hope to stall him long enough for you to find something on him. Preferably something that links him to your Uncle’s and Pycelle’s deaths.”

Jaime frowned as he mulled it over. “Yes, true Littlefinger is an opportunist little shit, but I do not know if he has it in him to kill with his own hands. He would have had someone else do it for him and then let them take the blame should anything go awry. It might take some time to dig up something on him, but I know it is out there. What have you told him in regards to being made the Hand?”

She could not help but sound pleased with herself. “I told him he was the most experienced for the job.” 

Jaime stared at her aghast, and then grinned as he nodded thoughtfully. “Good. That might buy you some time, at least until after the coronation.”

Desperately she asked, “Did you find anything in Pycelle’s study to indicate who might have killed them?”

Sadly, he shook his head. “No, nothing, but that does not mean anything. The place is a mess. Pycelle did not allow housekeeping in there ever. I think he had become a tad paranoid. I now have guards looking through everything, but so far all it has proven was that Pycelle had a cluttered room to go with a cluttered mind.”

“And what about the secret passages?” She gauged his down-turned mouth, “Though I guess it is too hopeful to find any that lead directly to Baelish’s chambers.”

“We only found one concealed up at the ramparts, but it branched off into many different hidden corridors. We traced back the corridors, and one did lead to Pycelle’s office, but none are anywhere near Baelish’s apartments.” 

He frowned at her dejected look, so added glumly, “Upon further inspection, there were no discernible footprints that could be made out in the dust. But it did appear as if multiple parties had used them recently. There were also some tracks in the dust that came from Pycelle’s study, so that might have been how the maester had gotten to the ramparts undetected.”

Before they can talk further, there was a sharp knock at the door. She rolled her eyes to Jaime. “I swear, it never ends,” she grumbled out to him, and he smirked in response. 

She was about to say “Enter,” when the steward barged in. She pursed her lips in irritation, noting to herself that she would have to remind him of his manners. As he scrutinized them, he seemed disappointed that they were only drinking tea and talking. 

Brienne realized that he had been trying to catch her in a compromising position with Jaime. She wondered if the steward was on Littlefinger’s payroll as well. Maybe it would be best to bring Podrick back into the fold, sooner than later.

Unaware that his job was on the line, the tall, lean man obsequiously bowed to her, “My Lady, one of your guests would like a word with you.” 

“I have already seen everyone that the council recommended.” And she would be damned if they got anything more out of her today. 

“But my lady, it is a Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill. He claims that you are old friends.” 

She snorted at that. “Tell him I am busy.”

Jaime spoke low to her, “Wait a moment, your Grace.” Then to the steward, he asked, “Did Lord Baelish send him?”

“No, Ser Jaime. Lord Tarly tried through proper channels but was denied.”

Exasperated, Brienne sneered out an accusation, “But once coin reached your palm you had no trouble bothering me?” 

Flustered the steward paled and assured, “Oh no, my Lady. I can never be bribed.”

She waved off his excuses with one of her own, “Tell Lord Tarly that he can—“

Jaime moved close so only she could hear, “I think you should see him, my Lady.”

“What, why?” She growled back low at him.

The irritated reaction aimed his way was not something he had experienced from her in a long time. Quickly Jaime pressed, “If he holds no ties to the council, he might prove to be a true ally. My father always spoke highly of him.” 

“Well, I doubt my becoming Queen will offend him any less than when I was dressed in armor.” Her mumbled gruff words made Jaime pause; then his gaze traveled to the steward who focused on them with rapt attention.

She realized that Jaime wished to talk to her in private, so she motioned for the steward to leave. He appeared irritated at her command but did as she requested. 

Once the door had shut behind him, Brienne could not help but hiss to Jaime, “Tarly is an ass.”

Smirking, Jaime nodded. “Oh, I am looking forward to hearing that story, your Grace. In the meantime, you cannot send away potential allies. If I recall, though he is the vassal family to Highgarden, Lady Olenna has been slowly encroaching on his family’s lands. He has been crowing to the council that she is trying to provoke him into a war so she could replace him with someone less problematic. If that is the case, then it would make sense that she is purposely keeping him isolated from you. I would not put it past that old battleax.” Jaime cheekily added, “And her too.” 

Brienne could not help but laugh, but reluctantly nodded in agreement. “I see your point. But he is still an ass.”

Jaime chuckled at her words as he crept his way towards the door. Then dramatically, he wrenched it open. The steward nearly fell into the room from leaning too close to the keyhole.

Quickly he righted himself and bowed, “Yes, my Lady?”

Imperiously, she commanded, “I will meet with Lord Tarly in my solarium.”

“Of course, my Lady.” He rushed from the room. Jaime gave her a reassuring smile that she honestly could not return. Instead, she grimaced as her Lord Commander escorted her from the chambers.

*

She met Tarly with the best gracious smile she could muster. The older Lord curtly bowed in response, but the whole time, his formal actions were as minimalist as possible. Jaime stood behind the man so that only Brienne could see him.

“It is good to see you again, my Lady.” But Tarly’s gaze was just as disapproving as it had been when she was in Renly’s camp. His disdain was palatable, but he was obviously trying to make the best of it.

She barely kept her own contempt out of her voice as she addressed him, “You wished to talk to me, my Lord?” 

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Yes, I wanted to give my condolences to you about the passing of the Hand and the Grand Maester.”

Tired of all the lies that she had already been inundated with, she spat, “They should be for Ser Jaime Lannister. I had hoped you would not stoop to such foolishness and instead speak the truth to me. It has never stopped you in the past.” Her harsh words caused the older man’s eyes to flare at her disrespect, and Jaime to roll his heavenwards at her diplomatic skills.

“Just as insolent as when you were at Renly’s camp, my Lady.” His harsh tone spoke volumes, and Brienne snorted at his demeanor.

Jaime began to correct Tarly’s rudeness, but Brienne indicated that she would handle this battle. This was an old fight that she needed to finish herself.

“And you are just as much of a bully as I recall, my Lord. But pleasantries aside, it seems that we might be in need of each other’s help.” Though they both were stubborn, Tarly grumpily nodded in agreement.

“Yes, yet again you find yourself surrounded by duplicitous users. Just like old times, Lady Brienne.”

“Yet this time I do not have such a gracious host such as yourself to ‘protect’ me, nor a sword to defend myself with, Lord Randyll.”

“No, but you do have my sword,” Jaime growled low, startling Tarly.

Obviously, Jaime had taken offense to the older knight.

“Wonderful, another Kingslayer I need to deal with.” The old knight sneered, and Jaime nearly pulled free his blade.

Snorting, Tarly ignored Jaime’s posturing and instead focused on Brienne, “That wizened old ham Olenna has been slowly encroaching on my border for a while now. Probably in hopes of causing a war so she would have justification to oust me as her vassal. Because of her position on the council, too many are scared of her and would not order her to stop.”

Brienne sighed, “And how can I help?” But she secretly marveled at how well Jaime had deduced this issue and felt blessed to have him on her side.

“If you do not form an alliance with Lady Olenna through marriage, I will help you in turn. I know honor and duty are things that a Kingslayer such as yourself does not have, but maybe as a dowager Queen you might consider them.” 

She sneered at his accusation. Only Tarly would still believe she would kill the man who had first shown her any respect. She had not thought of Lord Renly’s death for some time and shared a quick look with Jaime. Frankly, it had happened so long ago that she had nearly forgotten what had started this whole crazy adventure that her life had become. But then if all that hadn’t happened, she would have never met the amazing man who had truly stolen her heart.

It also proved that Tarly knew about the Thorns bid to have her marry her grandson Loras. Gods, was nothing a secret anymore?

Her arrogant chuckle made the already upset man even redder. She quickly reassured him, “Not to worry, my Lord. I know enough about the game to choose who to play it with.”

“Good, because I do not think you would know what to do if a war was declared between Highgarden and me.” Tarly sneered as he belligerently crossed his arms.

Outraged that he had the gall to say such a thing, she disparaged, “Frankly, I do not wish war on anyone. I know all too well what it can do, how it can destroy not only a House but the innocent people of it as well. I have not only seen the ravages first-hand throughout the Riverlands, but I was up North in the battle to unseat the Bolton’s.”

Tarly stared at her incredulously. “I thought those were only rumors, my Lady. Truly once again you do your father a disservice by heedlessly rushing into danger. At least now you will be unable to get personally involved in such things.”

She nearly kicked him right there, but her periphery caught movement as Jaime pretended to kick Tarly in the ass.

Instantly forgetting her indignation, Brienne nearly burst out laughing. Barely getting her mirth under control, she almost lost it again when Jaime mocked bitch slapping the back of Tarly’s head with his golden hand.

The old man stared at her indignantly as she began to suddenly choke on something. 

Brienne knew she had to leave, or she would hurt something from holding in the laughter. 

Between wheezes, she gasped out, “I am afraid that I am battling a cold.” She coughed harder, but it was obvious from the smile she was trying to conceal, that she was lying. 

The older knight’s eyes squinted at her in anger, but courtly manners meant that he could not call her on it. “I hope we will be able to talk more about this soon.” He glared at Jaime, who innocently looked right back at him.

“Yes,” she barely bit back a choking laugh, “after my coronation, Lord Tarly.”

Before he could demand sooner, Brienne was already out the door, Jaime fast on her heels. Finally, she had gotten far enough away that she let out a side-splitting laugh. The constrictive nature of her dress made it almost difficult to breathe, though. “I should have had Beatrice fix these gowns to withstand your sense of humor!”

Jaime smiled at her jape. As they slowed down, he said, “What an insufferable ass. Wish we didn’t need his help.”

She tried to add mock outrage to her voice, “You are most cruel to me, Ser.” 

Jaime flashed a sincere look, but the glint in his eyes said he knew exactly what he was doing. She would have to get even with him one of these days.

She smiled at him, “Gods I needed that. Thank you, Jaime.”

He grinned shyly back. “You say that a lot, but it is what I wish to do. I like making you happy, Brienne. I like making your life easier, too. I consider it my duty.”

They shared a deep look of understanding to one another, and a silent promise was made between them. With a pleased grin, Brienne took the offered crook of Jaime's arm, and together they strolled down the corridor back to her chambers so she could get some rest.

She now knew that everything was going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such amazing support. You guys are great!
> 
> I also wanted to wish you and yours a wonderful and safe holiday.


	11. Chapter 11

In case you were wondering what the dynamic duo was up to.

So Podrick and Bronn hung out together because their two friends were preoccupied with other things. Currently, they were relaxing in Podrick’s cramped quarters, sharing a second bottle of wine, intoxicated out of their minds.

“To absent friends,” a drunken Podrick chorused to the equally soused Bronn.

Bronn groused between sips, “Friends my ass. Ser Queensguard is too busy keeping an eye on his woman to care about us. And when he’s not ogling her, he’s playing detective.” He pouted to the ceiling, “I’m bored.”

“At least he still talks to you; my place has been taken over by servants and stewards.” Podrick wailed and then hiccupped. “I am useless now.” 

Bronn could tell that his friend felt betrayed and decided to take his mind off of it.

“Come now,” Bronn said as he reached across the table and pinched Podrick’s nipple through his tunic. He twisted hard making the young man yelp. The older man laughed and slurred, “I bet you're keeping busy with all those serving wenches swooning over your prowess.” Pride would never allow him to admit that he wanted to know Podrick’s secrets for wooing women.

“Ow, stop it!” The young squire smacked the older man’s hand free and dejectedly picked up his empty cup of wine. “It’s not like that.”

Bronn chortled as he refilled their goblets. He was pleased that most of it landed in the proper vessels. After picking the cup up, he swirled around the contents within and insisted to his friend, “You think they’re fucking? Bet they’re fucking.”

A miserable Podrick declared, “Both are too honorable.” 

There was a brisk rap against the door, and a startled Podrick spilled half his drink onto his shirt.

Quickly he tried to act like nothing happened and rested his head against his propped up hand. Properly balanced, Podrick called out, “Come in.” He proceeded to fail miserably at the effort as his elbow slid out and his head crashed onto the table. Bronn let out a mighty whoop of laughter.

The page at the door frowned at their behavior. “Lady Brienne would like a word with you, Payne.”

Podrick got a wistful look on his face and lurched to his feet. He nearly fell over, so he quickly sat back down.

Bronn, who was used to functioning inebriated, teetered to his feet and pulled Podrick up. “I got him,” he reassured the page. Since the young squire was too drunk to stand, Bronn supported most of Podrick’s dead weight. Both then sidestepped like a crab until Bronn bumped into the nearby wall. Thankfully it was not a large room, or they might have fallen over instead. With a knowing twinkle in his eyes, Bronn enthused to the page, “I should go with the lad.”

The page began to protest, but the older knight waved his hand dismissively at the frustrated summoner, “Lead on you.”

The page almost said something about it being only Podrick’s presence that she had requested but realized he did not want to have to drag the drunken boy along. Instead, he pivoted on his heel and led the way.

*

At the large table in her solarium, Brienne and Jaime sat huddled together as they quietly conferred to one another. Both quirked their heads to the side as they heard a rousing drunken song that was getting progressively louder as it headed their way.

They exchanged confused glances, and then Jaime groaned. There was a swift knock on the door and Podrick and Bronn burst into the solarium unannounced. The page trailed in behind them, appearing mortified.

Catching the irritated looks exchanged between those seated, Bronn elbowed Podrick in the ribs chortling, “Told you they are fucking.”

Podrick nearly fell over as he once more tried to defend his ladies honor, “She would never—“

Jaime scowled at the two drunks as he quickly shooed the page from the room and shut the door. At first, Jaime was displeased that Bronn was there, but when he thought more about it, he realized he needed him. “Bronn, I was hoping to talk to you later in private—”

A horrified Brienne interrupted, “Podrick, have you been drinking?”

The young man tried to gather himself up straight to prove that he was fine, but a belligerent Bronn interrupted, “What do you expect him to do when you cast him aside like garbage.”

Podrick’s head bobbed up and down like a hurt puppy.

Brienne’s voice of admonishment became one of concern, “Is that what you think Podrick?” She saw how her young squire’s lip trembled, and she admitted, “But I was just trying to protect you from court intrigue.”

Indignant, Podrick sputtered, “You forget that I served Lord Tyrion before you. I know court life rather good… err, well. Better than you I reckon.” He then blushed when he realized he had overstepped himself, “Oh, sorry, my Lady.”

Brienne dipped her head; a small smile graced her lips. “It is alright Podrick, I should be the one apologizing to you. It was unfair of me not to include you. And you are right that your time with Lord Tyrion could come in handy. Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor.” She took a deep breath to center herself, and made sure to smile genuinely at her young squire, “Podrick, you are one of the few people I can trust, and I have need of your help.”

Pleased, he stood up taller. “Of course, my Lady. You need only to ask.”

The older man by his side shook his head excessively, “Not so fast. You can’t just ignore us and then snap your fingers expecting us to instantly obey.” Bronn attempted to mimic the gesture, but his fingers were not working very well at the moment.

A wary Brienne was about to say something, but Jaime growled out, “Actually once she is Queen, she can do exactly that.” 

“Well la-de-da. Not good enough,” Bronn replied snidely.

Jaime recognized the look aimed his way and exhaled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Not to be ignored anymore.” Bronn’s eyes squinted as he studied the ceiling, “Oh, and an apology would be nice too.”

Jaime flinched at the request, but said through a tight grimace, “Sorry that I ignored you, Ser Bronn.”

Smugly, Bronn nodded, “That’s better.”

Crossing his arms, Jaime sat on the edge of the desk. “Good, because I can do with your assistance in regards to these murders.” 

“It is about time you asked for our help,” Bronn said, and Podrick nodded quickly in return.

“What can we do?” Podrick asked as he swayed.

“Taking a seat would be a start,” Brienne said, worry marred her plain features.

With a flourish, her squire dropped down into a nearby chair. Bronn though was able to stagger over to the large table and glanced down.

“What are these names for?” He stared at the parchment, his eyes attempting to focus.

“Lady Brienne is finalizing the names for her new personal guards. It turns out that the old guards are not to be trusted.” There was a twinge of regret to Jaime’s grim smile. 

Brienne nodded and indicated with her head at the paper. “Yes, I fear Littlefinger is using his little fingers to control them.”

A glum Jaime agreed with her assessment. “Sadly, the current Kingsguard is nothing like how they used to be. So we will use the pretense that since she is the new Queen, she will need a new guard. This way we can get rid of the old ones.”

“Smartest thing you’ve done yet, my lady,” the older man said as he scratched his bristled chin.

Now Brienne glowered at him, and Bronn smirked. Jaime just rolled his eyes and shrugged at Brienne as if to say, ‘That’s Bronn for you.’

“So who are you going to replace them with? Not me I hope.” Bronn had a bit of whine to his inflection. 

She side-eyed him, “Somehow I doubt celibacy would work with you, Ser. And the pay is horrible. No, I was impressed with the officers who had escorted me down here through the Riverlands. The majority of them should work. Just setting this up so after tomorrow’s coronation I can make it official.”

Bronn snorted, “You better ask them first, though, some might not care for that honor. Besides, doesn’t one have to be a knight to join the royal guard?”

Brienne remembered all too well that being a knight did not necessarily mean that one had honor. Bitterbridge came to mind, and she swallowed the sudden unpleasant taste in her mouth. Nodding, she said, “True, but I will be Queen, so I can change the rules as I please.” 

”Yeah, you’ll fit right in as Queen, my lady,” Bronn said smugly.

Ignoring the sound of Brienne’s teeth gnashing, Bronn clapped his hands loudly together, startling Podrick who had begun to drift off to sleep. “Now where is the wine, we need to celebrate our renewed friendship.”

Jaime and Brienne sighed loudly at the man. But Jaime knew better and was already calling the steward to bring some libation before there was a rebellion. Or a further dressing down from his drunken friend.

*

A hung-over Podrick stood behind his lady, in the role as one of her advisors. The bright clothing he wore hurt his eyes, and he wished he could curl up and die already. And the noise of all those in attendance was adding to his misery and nausea.

The interior to the Sept of Baelor still held the slight smell of death in the air, and the heat made the sweet coy aroma of incense even stronger. Podrick thought he might puke.   
And though she tried to hide it, Lady Brienne, soon to be Queen Brienne, appeared even greener than he did. It must have been the proceedings because she had hardly had any drink in celebration last night. He felt sorry for his mistress, knowing that she hated such attention aimed her way. But he also knew she would be fair and a good leader, so she would soldier on like she always did. He could not help the surge of pride that welled up in him. That was until it battled against the queasiness as to who ruled his body. 

Wobbling a bit, Podrick was grateful that Lady Brienne had more than just him to rely on in this viperous city. Thankfully she had Ser Jaime as her protector as well. The glances they shared last night did make him wonder if Bronn was right. Still, he could not believe that her moral underpinnings would allow her to sleep with the Lord Commander of the Queensguard.

The Septon droned on about the Seven and how the new Queen was the representation of all of them, and Podrick tried not to sway. Tugging on his too-tight collar, he thought at least he did not have to dress in stifling armor like Ser Jaime, and the other guards had to.

As the Septon brought up the responsibility of the monarchy, Podrick thought he would scream. If he remembered from when Joffrey had been made King, they were not even halfway done. He did not think he could make it. Lightheaded, he began to teeter backward when he was promptly goosed by Bronn. Though he barely muffled his squeak in time, he still earned a glare from the Priest in front of him. At least now he was aware enough to get through this interminable ceremony.

*

The Coronation went on just as Brienne feared, a boring, pompous affair that had the nobility salivating at their new, inexperienced Queen. Granted she did not want any duels over her legitimacy (besides, this dress made it damn near impossible to fight in). At least no one glared at her as if she was undeserving. That worried her, and thus she assumed that the majority of them thought her easy to control for their own needs. 

Last night, Jaime had tried to reassure her that most of the nobles were just grateful that someone was taking over the position that they could rely on to do it properly or at least would stand by their word. Many had heard the rumors of her exploits up North, and though most saw the Starks as traitors, some knew that the original Warden of the North had been a decent man, no matter what he had been accused of. It helped that Brienne had stuck to her promise so doggedly to the Starks. That loyalty to one's word in itself meant a lot to those who just wanted a ruler to pledge fealty to.

During their talk, Jaime also wisely told her to accept the praises now, because soon the nobility would turn on her when she could not give them what they all wanted. 

An adamant Brienne vowed to him that she would help the smallfolk as much as the high-born. Jaime grinned at her naiveté, and Bronn chuckled at her words stating, “Yes, you definitely need new guards. Oh, and you should also double them.”

A wistful Podrick slurred drunkenly, “And that is why you are the bestest in all the land, my lady.”

After she smiled pleased, she promptly took away his cup of wine, patted him on the head and pulled him over to the daybed so he could take a nap. He smiled crookedly up at her as he began to drift off, looking just as young as his years. She hoped she had not risked his life by dragging him into this mess that her world had become. But then he had already been through all her crazy adventures and lived to tell the tale.

Now she glanced at her second strongest supporter and grimaced. Podrick looked so green. Thankfully, a less hung-over Bronn was keeping an eye on him. Catching her concerned stare, the older knight winked saucily at her, and she frowned flustered.

He had made a pass at her last night, the whole time cautiously side-eying Jaime as if to gauge his friend’s reaction. Noticing the seething Lord Commander, Bronn backed off, but still, he dipped his head in Jaime’s direction, “If he can’t perform for you, my lady,” a cough, “due to his duties, just let me know, and I can help you out.”

The knight then quickly scampered to Podrick’s snoring body and kept the lad between him and the fuming Jaime.

It looked like Jaime was about to launch his golden fist at the man, but Brienne placed her hand on her knight's arm. “He teases, Jaime. Let him has his fun.”

“Yes,” Jaime growled through gritted teeth, “This will be the last fun that Ser Bronn will have at our expense for some time. Maybe he should be sent down to Dorne again, this time as an ambassador.”

Bronn became agitated, “Not that I would not mind seeing a certain girl again, but frankly, I cannot imagine that it would be a good time for all.”

“Enough you two. Work can wait for now,” Brienne interrupted. “Let us enjoy our last official night of freedom.”

That somber statement seemed to take the life from the room. Bronn, of course, had to add, “Well, since you will be Queen, you’re allowed the final say.”

Now as she sweated in the Sept, she would give anything for a cup of cool water and a place to sit. Though it was a light color, the damn regal gown she was wearing was hot, heavy and tight throughout. The silken ruffles around her neck choked her and tickled her chin at the same time. The long sleeves chafed as did the constrictive band around her chest that made her practically flat bosom appear fuller than it actually was. This, of course, meant that she could hardly breathe in the damn thing. 

Her frustration was so strong; she would have ripped the damn dress off if she could, propriety be damned. But she was never the sort who would do as she pleased anyway.  
As she sagged slightly, she felt Jaime’s right hand lightly run down the back of her sheathed arm. The cool metal of his golden hand was surprisingly refreshing through the scratchy lace cloth.

She barely shifted her gaze to him. Jaime was staring straight ahead, but there was a slight curl to the edge of his lips. With an internal smirk, Brienne wondered if being surrounded by her friends might be more than she had bargained for.

The Septon loudly cleared his throat, bringing Brienne’s focus back to him. With a forced smile, the older man said a few more words and then indicated for her to bow her head. Even though he was on a step higher than her, she was still tall enough that she had to kneel for him to get that damn ornate crown on.

She sighed when she felt the decorative circlet placed tightly on her head. Though the crown had a blue embossed sun at its center to represent Tarth, it still felt foreign. It almost seemed as if her past life had been displaced by this piece of metal and sadness filled her heart that now it was all officially over. She was no longer an individual, but a representation of the people of Westeros.

“Please rise, your Grace.” As Brienne did so, she turned to the audience, and the Septon raised his hands as if he was personally including everyone before them, “May I present to you, Queen Brienne of Westeros. Long may she reign.”

As the crowd bowed and curtsied, she heard the echo as they murmured back to her their allegiance and she felt disheartened. There was no turning back now. 

Glancing around the room, Brienne realized that there was only one present that she cared to acknowledge. The look Jaime aimed her way was of pride, and she felt relief swell within her. 

Thankfully, the official coronation had finally ended. At least back in the throne room, she would have a place to sit.

*

Brienne’s steps momentarily faltered as she headed toward the metal monstrosity that was the prime focus of the throne room. It loomed, all sharp pointy ends, and a halo of death seemed to surround the foreboding perch. It almost seemed like an affront that a knight would be sitting on something made of their honor. But then, she had never truly been a knight.

Why would anyone want to sit on such a thing anyway, let alone carry the heavy burden of the monarchy to rule on it? She thought. It made the crown on her head heavier, and she flexed her tight shoulders and pressed on. Though tempted to flee, this was now her duty. That and there was no way she could outrun Jaime in this ridiculously tight frilly gown that she wore.

After climbing the steps, she sat on the sword throne with a barely concealed grimace. She was not wrong that it was an uncomfortable place to sit and again wondered why so many lives had been lost to obtain it. 

Swallowing her fear as best she was able; Brienne glanced down at all before her. They stared expectantly at her, and it seemed as if they were accessing her right to be there. Some even had the audacity to flick their gaze to the throne, as if wondering how well they would fit on it. She almost laughed in their faces and nearly informed them all that it was as cozy as it looked. And they were certainly welcome to it.

All the more she felt naked without Oathkeeper at her hip. 

Jaime stoically took his place to her left, and she wondered what he must think after watching so many different people sit on this accursed thing. 

Brienne tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position and got jabbed in the thigh for her troubles. Cursing under her breath, she noticed that Jaime was side-eyeing her with a slight uptick to his lips. Oh, he must be enjoying this, she grumbled internally. She should order him to sit on it just to see how he liked it. 

Actually, she wouldn’t mind sharing this wretched thing and ruling with him, she wistfully thought. And it would serve him right. She noticed his frown as he took in her longing gaze aimed his way. He even appeared a bit nervous, and as if guessing her thoughts, his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.

Then Lord Baelish and the others on the small council joined her on the dais and cordially bowed to her. Littlefinger had an annoying smirk on his lips as if he enjoyed her discomfort and she wondered if any of these swords pulled free so she could stab him in his arrogant leer. They certainly were sharp enough to inflict damage, and she questioned what idiot thought it would be clever to sit on swords.

But in retrospect, maybe this would be a good place to hide a few of her weapons within this throne. The camouflage would be perfect, and it would certainly work in her favor.  
As if guessing her intentions, Lady Olenna nodded knowingly, while her son Mace stared dimly into space. Brienne pondered where his mind so often fled too and wondered if there was room for one more.

Sighing, once more she shifted as she nodded to them to sit. As she sat back, the lace on her sleeve snagged on a sharp edge, and she heard a slight rip. This would never do in the long run. Either the throne went, or she got to wear trousers. And she wanted a thick padded seat as well.

“Shall we begin, your Grace?” Littlefinger purred indolently close to her ear.

“Yes, let’s,” she tried to make her voice sound strong.

Baelish’s loud voice rang through the throne room as she was officially announced. “Your new Queen has a few words.”

After the crowd had bowed and curtsied, they politely clapped. It seemed a rather somber affair, and Brienne really wished she had something or someone to stab to liven things up.

Standing, she first felt relief, but then her aching back reminded her that she had stood in the Sept for far too long. Resisting the urge to rub out the knot, she gritted her teeth and stood taller.

“My subjects. I am honored to have been given this chance to make our lives better. I promise to lead and guide you, offer you fair treatment and only do what is best for all of you. My thanks... and carry on.” She added with a regal wave as she sat down. Lord Baelish had written some long pompous monolog that she could not stomach. Besides, the shortness of her speech would prove to the citizens that she was no nonsense.

As she once more tried to get comfortable, an irritated Baelish indicated the first of her Bannermen to approach. As the nobleman dutifully swore fidelity to her, Brienne relaxed. She nodded pleased and spoke a few words of gratitude.

This wasn’t so bad, she thought. And then she glanced up and noticed that there was a long line of gentry wishing to take a knee for her. Her smile was frozen on her face when she spied all the grinning men leering hungrily up at her, or more likely her throne. She wondered how many would try to woo her tonight during the official coronation dance. This was going to be worse than Bitterbridge and all the times her father had tried to set up with a betrothal, she thought with a shudder.

It must have been hours, but finally, the last man had pledged loyalty to her, and after waving him off, she tried to stretch. Her backside was numb from sitting so long, but at least that meant she no longer felt the stabs of the sharp seat cutting into her. 

Lord Baelish stood and addressed the crowd, “Thank you for attending, and we hope to see all of you at tonight’s celebration.”

Clearly dismissed, the audience began to shuffle out of throne room.

Stifling a yawn, Podrick came over and showed Brienne a list. He had been taking dutiful notes during the introductions.

Brienne grimaced when she realized how long the list was. Each one was a promised dance to those who asked. Honestly, she had lost track because she had become so tired of all the ogling charmers.

Jaime leaned over and whispered in her ear only, “At this rate, you will only be able to dance with all your admirers for a minute.”

At first, she internally groaned at his words, and then she perked up. That wasn’t so horrible after all. When she went to snark something back at him, Lady Olenna delicately coughed.

The equally tired council members stood and creakily shuffled over to Brienne. “Until tonight, your Grace.” Lord Baelish oozed out, and Brienne wondered how long she had to wait until she could kick him.

Lady Olenna and her son Mace shambled over, and the Thorn politely informed her, “Your Grace, I hope you will not be disappointed if I do not join your celebration tonight. My old bones are very tired.” Brienne nodded vigorously feeling as if her bones had aged to brittle during these interminable hours. 

Olenna continued, “Instead my grandson Loras will be in attendance for me.” In other words, pay attention to him. “I trust you will save the first official coronation dance for him.”

Brienne curtly bobbed her head, reading into exactly what Olenna was asking. “It will be my honor to do so, my lady.”

Smiling, the older woman slightly dipped her old body and then let her son assist her down the steps.

With a loud sigh, Brienne watched the three council members amble down and through the thinning crowd. At least she could finally get out of this damn dress.

Then she saw the officers that escorted her through Riverlands standing proudly to the side. Those of her current Queenguard smugly took them in with an air of disdain. She guessed she better take care of this now. At least with the door closed, she would not embarrass the old guard in front of any witnesses. She wondered what the council was going to say about her changing her protection. But then she was Queen, and there was not much they could do about it.

With a slight grin, she signaled her old guard forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> I hope that 2018 brings much happiness to all of you. Thank you again for all your support, you help make writing this story a pure joy.


	12. Chapter 12

Standing nervously in front of the throne, Brienne gazed at all the nobility looking up at her. At least she got to change into a less tight outfit for tonight’s dance, she thought. After she once more tugged the revealing bodice upwards, she grumpily stared at the expectant faces below. 

The snooty murmurs and japes could have been targeted her way, but with so many there, it was difficult to tell over the buzz of the crowd. Relying on her past experiences, it probably was aimed at her. And their chatter sounded as caustic as gathered crows and just as subtle.

The coronation dance was about to commence, and Brienne had no idea what she was supposed to do. Normally she would have hidden in an alcove, but with all her new guards swarming around her, there was nowhere to retreat.

As for her new Queensguard, they looked amazing in their uniforms, but there seemed to be no logical formation to their placement. Not surprising since they were out of their element.

Jaime continued to bark strict commands at them, trying to keep some semblance of decorum. Brienne knew it was frustrating for him, for though her new guards were great at escorting someone through the Riverlands, most did not understand the nuisances of working around nobility, let alone the intricacies of court life. Often she had to tell them to cease openly threatening those who deemed to approach her. She had a feeling that this was going to be a long ongoing project.

Her gaze caught Littlefingers sneer directed at her and her new guards. She could practically hear his teeth gnashing over the din of the nobility’s whispers. The old guard she had let go in the afternoon was not the only ones upset that they had been dismissed. As soon as Baelish heard the news – no doubt from a member of the old Kingsguard – he had marched to her chambers and demanded an audience.

Her new guard nearly tossed him down the stairs, but Jaime interceded and had him announced. Littlefinger took such offense at their actions that he demanded Brienne cancel her discharge orders at once. Brienne simply stated that it was expected that there would be a learning curve and that it is going to take some time and that allowances needed to be made.

Seeing her stubbornness in action, Baelish changed his tune to one of placation, “My Lady—“

“That’s your Grace.” She haughtily reminded him.

He bowed his head even lower, but his eyes rose up to gauge her disposition, “Er, yes. Your Grace, not only are they… naive when it comes to proper court etiquette, but how can you trust them over the ones who had been a part of the Guard for so long? You don’t know anything about them, why, they aren’t even knighted.”

“They protected me well enough when they escorted me here. As for their lack of court manners, I find their purity refreshing. Perchance the other guards were too involved in court intrigue. Thus not enough attention was given to their role as protectors. Who knows, maybe King Tommen would still be alive today.”

He glowered at her words.

Brienne turned her back to him and once more pulled up on the neckline of her dress. She was not just frustrated at Baelish; this ensemble was a bit too revealing for her. “Is there anything else, my lord?”

“No.” He replied, but it almost sounded as if he had more to say. Instead, he pivoted on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Her lips curled pleased at the feeling of a win, but then she schooled her features. Baelish was not one who took losing easily.

A light tap on her shoulder snapped her from her earlier memories, and she glanced down to see Podrick beside her.

Thankfully, the lad looked less green than he did this morning. “Your Grace, they are ready.”

Sighing, she nodded her head and waited. Unsure of her next move; it was decided for her when Jaime lightly shoved her towards the center of the floor. All eyes turned to her, and the hush was as oppressive as the predatory gazes aimed her way. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself. She could do this; she was Queen after all.

On Podrick’s signal, a timid Loras Tyrell came up to her and offered her his hand. 

“Your Grace, may I have this honor to lead you through your first official coronation dance.” His mumble was so low; she had to stoop to hear his words. He seemed so broken that she hardly recognized him.

Instantly her heart went out to him. A time ago, she remembered him being so confident and arrogant. Even when he challenged her to prove her innocence involving Renly’s murder, the fire in his eyes had been dangerous. Though she had beaten him in the tournament at Bitterbridge, she doubted she would have survived his wrath that afternoon. Thankfully, between his sister Margaery and Ser Jaime, they were able to convince him of her innocence.

She took his offered hand in her larger one. The silence of the crowd was palpable and then the murmurs renewed, this time, louder as all stared agitated at the statuesque couple in the center of the room. With him being the one to start the Queen’s first dance, the message was clear. Loras was in the lead to be her consort.

As his sweaty palm clenched in her hand, Brienne automatically placed her other hand on his waist. A gesture must have been given, for the music suddenly began, and she was swept up into the waltz. The official coronation dance that marked the start of her dynasty began, and there was no turning back now. She caught the scowling faces aimed their way, but then the music sped up, and all became a blur around her.

During another circle around the floor, Loras was so reticent she nearly took over. 

Where was the man who fought so valiantly against her at Bitterbridge? Who had nearly killed her when they met up again? She was incensed that this had happened to him. The Faith Militant had been a pox, and she was glad they were gone. They had had far too much power. If they could do this to one of the Thorn’s grandchildren, who knows how far they would have gone otherwise.

She would never admit it, but she was relieved that the ‘thing’ in Pycelle’s office had taken care of the High Sparrow. Honestly, she did not know how she would have dealt with them. Supposedly they had been very influential over the people of King’s Landing.

Brienne felt so helpless when she gazed into Loras’ dead eyes. If she somehow had no choice but to marry him, she would send him on a long vacation away from all this horribleness. Regardless, the man should be at his home in Highgarden, healing, and not being used as a pawn in his Grandmother’s schemes for power.

In hopes of bringing back some of Loras’ old fire; she leaned in so only he could hear. Quietly she admitted to him, “I killed the man who murdered our King.”

Loras’ eyes became less glassy - was he drunk or drugged to keep the nightmares at bay, Brienne wasn’t sure - and he nodded in gratitude. “Then I owe you, your Grace.” 

The dance soon ended, and Loras bowed stiffly to her. There was a slight grin on his face now, and his smile appeared genuine. He was very attractive when he relaxed, she thought with a tired sigh. If she had not been so enamored with another, she thought that marriage with this young Lord would have not been so unpleasant.

*

Though it was tradition that the one who led the coronation dance was the front-runner to be her consort, the other nobles still believed there was a chance, and all felt that they could win over someone as simple as her. And since no official word had been decreed that Loras was the actual consort, they persevered.

Throughout the night, she had been introduced to so many nobles that she did not bother to remember their names anymore. And those she waltzed with, she could only recall by using less than flattering descriptions in association with them. 

Currently, the stoat, officious looking man she danced with was now known as the Weasel of the Wendwaters. Finally, the waltz ended, and she nodded her pleasantries. Before he could go on about his numerous assets, she had already excused herself. She had barely caught her breath before Podrick had yet again presented her, this time to a House from the Crownlands.

After a few more dances, she found herself with an extremely arrogant lord (Lord Pompous from Pyle). She snorted as he began to list his virtues, his brown eyes gleaming proudly from all his accomplishments. He seemed to think that because she had not dabbled much with court life, that she was naïve when it came to politics, and thus would be more pliable. At first, he used his perceived qualities and good looks to try to sway her, assuming that she would fall all over herself to be with such a man. 

Sure he was very handsome and had done a lot, but there was already one gorgeous and amazing man who she had her sights on. As Lord Pompous continued to note his attributes, she tried not to scowl. He reminded of her old Jaime when she had first escorted the smug knight through the Riverlands. She had learned a lot about egotistical people from that Jaime before he had lost his hand. 

The Lord must have realized that she was not as enamored with him as he was in himself and sneered up at her, “Your Grace, there are some who believe you are unfit to rule. With me at your side, I can squash those rumors.” As if to prove how intimidating he was, the hold on her hand tightened. Had she not been so strong with a blade it might have actually hurt.

Her eyes squinted down at him. Suddenly, he found his hard clench returned with the steel of her own. Whimpering, he tugged ineffectually trying to pull free, and he began to panic when the vice-like grip only increased its pressure.

She whispered in his ear, “I hope this is not your dueling hand, my Lord.”

He yipped when she squeezed so hard, the bones in his hand audibly popped.

Brienne felt his feet falter, and he nearly fell into her in a faint. Bolstering his weight, she danced them over to the chairs and left him there partially comatose.

Jaime was instantly at her side, his stern expression practically challenging the stricken lord. Getting no answers from the pale, weeping man, he turned to Brienne with a raised eyebrow. “Not to worry, Ser Jaime. He just needed a sample of the strength I shall wield over those who doubt my might.”

The Lord Commander of the Queensguard smirked and bowed to her splendor. As they shared a secret smile, Podrick approached and introduced her to her next dance partner. 

With a tired put upon groan, Brienne shrugged at Jaime and went to her next suitor. 

By her umpteenth dance, her feet hurt, she could hardly stand straight anymore due to stooping over the smaller men, and she was bored. Though her example of the pushy Lord had paid off, and the others knew not to threaten her again, that still did not mean she came away unscathed.

She was bruised in the most peculiar places. Though she might move gracefully in a sword fight and now on the dance floor, some of the sons of the nobility needed major improvement. She winced as the corpulent lord’s foot once more found her instep (the not so gaunt from Gaunt). And her leg cramped from being held back from automatically kicking the man’s shin in response. 

Brienne gritted her teeth as the Lord once more stepped on her foot, nearly crushing her arch. She couldn’t take anymore. She was Queen damn it, not a stepping stool!

Halfway through the dance, she excused herself. Limping over to Podrick, she signaled a servant to bring her wine. After gulping down the cup, she was dismayed to find that it did help lessen the pain. The second cup also went down well, and she began to feel giddy. So much so that she began to order another one. Before Jaime could admonish her to slow her imbibing down, she halted. Alas, all the booze in the world could not quell the anger that suddenly welled up in her.

Carefully she put the cup down before she hurled the goblet at her next dance partner’s face.

Dutifully, Podrick began introductions, but Brienne interrupted with a barely contained sneer, “I know who it is, Podrick. Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, I am surprised you were able to be squeezed in.” She shot Podrick a look, but he held up a hand in a placating gesture, unknowing of what he had done. 

Fearing her wrath, Podrick’s gaze flicked over to Baelish’s cocky posture, and the arrogant man raised his glass to her in a salute. For once Baelish was front and center in taking the blame for his little maneuvers.

Fine, if Littlefinger wanted to play games, then so be it, she thought. Honestly, she had no idea what that man was up too, but it was never something good if he was so arrogant about it. Even Jaime acted disquieted.

Lord Tarly loudly cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “Your Grace.” The smile was forced, as was his manners. But Brienne was never one to ignore a challenge, and she took the older lords offered hand.

Leading her out onto the dance floor, things began pleasantly enough. Internally sighing, she reminded herself that she was Queen, and she had to be the one to set the example. “My lord, are you enjoying your stay here at the Keep?”

The tall, older man stared into her eyes, “Yes, surprisingly so. And how do you like the crown?” He leaned over and smelled her breath, “I see that it is already heavy on your brow.”

She smiled too brightly, nearly showing teeth, “Nothing I cannot handle, my lord.”

The niceties did not last long as he grounded out, “Yes, I see you are already making alliances.” He pointed stared at Loras who was seated in the corner of the room.   
“Especially after you said, you would not do so.”

Exhaling, she said with a grimace, “I gave no such promise to you or the Tyrell’s.”

Like an old dog with a bone, he would not let it go. “One does not normally dance the official coronation waltz with someone they were not betrothed to.”

She shrugged, “It was just a dance.”

“So you won’t marry Loras Tyrell?” He sneered, “The sweet smelling rose of Highgarden?”

Tired of the games, she sighed. “I will do what is best for the people of this land.”

Pushing back enough so she could register his intimidating strength, “Heed my warning, and stay away from the Tyrell’s if you know what is good for you.”

Unlike the other threats she had received, this was one she could not ignore. “I assure you that nothing was promised.”

His words were mocking, “Oh, that special dance meant nothing? It meant a lot to all present. And he looked at you in adoration.”

“It was all for show.” Her voice sounded frustrated. Why could he not just back down and accept what she said?

“Hardly, your Grace.” The contempt in his tone indicated that he would continue until she yielded. “You picked him to lead the official dance. Though I am sure you would have rather danced with the Kingslayer.”

Her steps faltered for a moment. He smirked at her fumble.

“Oh yes, I heard about you and Ser Jaime Lannister. I am sure he wishes to be with you as you do him, but neither of you can due to your honorable stations. Oh, wait. Actually, he has been a secret lover to the Queen before.” He suddenly laughed. “Too bad you are not related to him.”

It was one thing to disparage her character; it was another to go after a friend.

Her voice was barely contained rage, “I will warn you only once not to drag others into this. Your anger is at me and me only. Leave my friends out of this.”

As if sensing a weak point, his words stabbed at her, “Friends, what a joke. He is a fake as his right hand and will turn on you as all the others have in the past. You have no friends, no one to trust or rely on.” Before she could answer, he twirled her around and her gaze passed over Baelish. The smug bastard seemed to be enjoying her predicament.

Once more she faced the fuming Lord Tarly. “Oh, and will you be my friend?” She sarcastically asked.

“What? Be friends with the woman who killed Renly Baratheon? An insufferable female who continues to do as she pleases, unheeding any sound advice. Gods, it would have been better if you had been raped by Renly’s men. At least then, maybe you would have learned some humility. Hell, maybe your father would have gotten a proper lady because of it.”

Outraged, Brienne shook so hard, she nearly choked. Instead, she heard her low voice as words were spat out in scorn, “The same could be said for you, my lord. Maybe you should be raped so you would know your place.” She was surprised that had come from her mouth and fleetingly wondered if she had drunk too much wine. 

Lord Tarly shoved her away. Now red-faced, his angry words barreled forward, “You are an insult to the crown and have no business being the Queen.” 

“And you are barely a man, unfit to stand in my presence!” She screamed back. Before she could charge forward and attack, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. Instantly, her new guards surrounded them to screen the action from the stunned audience. But it was too late; already there were many witnesses.

Jaime growled to the Queensguard, his finger pointing at the livid Tarly, “Get him out of here! Take him back to his chambers.”

Quickly, Tarly was shuffled from the room, the murmur of the crowd getting louder the closer he got to the exit.

An enraged Brienne made to follow, and Jaime had to practically wrestle her back.

From the red of her periphery, Brienne saw Podrick frantically motioning the band to continue. Instantly the music started back up, and Jaime dragged her into one of the side rooms. Once in, he let her go so he could bar the door after Podrick rushed in behind them.

She is so mad she was shaking. Podrick handed her a cup of wine, and she quickly drank it down. 

Jaime ordered the young squire, “If you are going to give her any more, get her some food first.” 

Podrick quickly nodded and hurried off to do as he was told.

Placing himself in front of the door so she could not charge off behind Podrick, Jaime asked, “Are you going to be alright?”

Brienne tried to nod that she was fine, but she could not calm down. The memories of her time being among Renly’s men and all their false affections had reared to the surface. Their insulting deceit was palpable on her tongue, and she nearly spat. Then she recalled Lord Tarly insinuating that she had no business being a knight and deserved whatever treatment the men wished to do to her.

Suddenly, she grabbed a piece of furniture and threw it hard against the wall. The force was strong enough that it shattered upon impact. She hardly acknowledged the loud sound, not caring that those nearest the door had surely heard it.

“Brienne, are you alright?” Jaime asked once more.

His calming voice broke through her rage, and she exhaled. Finally, she relaxed enough that she could look at him. She knew she must look a sight. Hair disarrayed and her face as red as a rose.

“Yes.” She grounded out.

As if fearful that she might spark again, Jaime slowly approached her. “You have to be. You are going to have to go back out there and show them that you are in control.”

“Damn Tarly.” She hissed and grabbed a chair.

She had yet to throw it, so Jaime placed his golden hand on it to keep it in place. The sight of his ‘hand’ seemed to help ease her. With a cautious smile, Jaime said, “I do want to hear what he said to you, but I fear it might rile you up once more.” Now close enough to her, Jaime brushed her hair back from her face, gauging how she was doing.

She clenched her hands together, trying to cease the shaking that ran throughout her body. “I want him out of the castle Jaime; I want him gone.” 

He bobbed his head in fast agreement. “Yes, first thing in the morning, I promise. Are you able to go out and meet your subjects?”

Gritting her teeth, she finally nodded. She knew she had to act professionally. It would not do for the Queen to be seen as out of control on her first day.

There was a timid knock at the door, and Podrick entered with a tray of food. 

Not knowing what else to do with her hands, she crammed the offered fare into her mouth. As she choked it down with more wine, there was another knock. Lord Baelish entered all obsequious; a fake worried grimace graced his concerned features.

“Your Grace, are you alright? That was quite a scene out there.”

She glared at him. He was to blame for this. He knew that Tarly would set her off. No, she amended, it was her own fault. Brienne could not believe she had let herself be so easily manipulated. She had to learn not to let such things upset her. Her head ached from anger and too much drink.

The empty cup of wine landed hard on the table, “Yes, I am fine, Lord Baelish.”

“How bad is the damage?” Jaime asked him.

Littlefinger’s grin was a tight line. “There is some chatter. Most were too involved to notice much; that is until the yelling began.”

Brienne groaned, “Of course.” 

His pleasant smile was placating, “If you like, I can say something to your subjects. Something to let them know that it was all a misunderstanding.”

She vehemently shook her head, “No, I can manage without your help.” That was all she needed.

With a calculating smirk, Baelish oozed out, “You know, this would never have happened if I was your Hand.”

Before she could snidely reply, Jaime stepped in, “Lord Baelish, as you could tell it has been a trying evening. Perhaps you could let those in attendance know that the Queen will be out shortly.”

The arrogant man glanced at Brienne, who curtly nodded to him. Her blue eyes were still dark with rage. He stuttered out, “Err, yes of course.”

As he retreated from the room, she stared at him, lost in thought. Feeling trapped and without many options, she knew she needed help from someone who had a lot of power and that she could trust to be her Hand. And it certainly was not Lord Baelish.

Jaime was suddenly in front of her, breaking her from her troubling thoughts. As he helped her fix her appearance, she reflected that she wished it could be Jaime that she could rely on in such a way. He really was an amazing supportive presence. 

Biting her lip, an idea came to her, but she was unsure how he would react. Alas before that could be dealt with, she had the current situation that she had to take care of first. It would not go over well if her subjects believed her to be an out of control emotional ruler.

With one last deep inhale, she nodded to Jaime. She was ready to face the music, so to speak.

Opening the door, she followed him from the room, Podrick trailing behind her. There was a sudden silence when she reentered the Throne Room, and she nodded regally at those present.

Littlefinger glanced up from talking to a group of women, who still giggled over what he had said. Some guilty glanced at Brienne, while others snidely took in her appearance and tittered amongst themselves.

Already tired of the politics, Brienne once more took the offered hand of a young noble, and they began to dance. She winced when his foot accidentally connected with her shin.

With a sigh, Brienne swore she would stay because she has too, but as soon as she could escape, she would. Though exhausted and wanting to sleep, she first needed to talk to Jaime about something he was not going to like. 

*

As Brienne limped back to her chambers, she stifled a yawn. Tired, she stretched out her shoulders and winced as she felt the sore muscles in her back tug in protest. Gods, what she wouldn’t give to never have to dance with the nobility ever again. She felt worse than if she had sparred for seven hours straight! And she swore she would go easy on the spirits next time. Her headache matched the pain of her body.

Jaime glanced over at her in worry, but she waved off his concern.

When they rounded the corner, two maids instantly hushed when they saw her coming. They curtsied in reverence as she hobbled past. Usually, they would aim a half smile to her, but now there was a look of fear in their eyes instead. Brienne sighed. It seemed that the rumors had quickly spread through the large Keep about her temper. 

Exhausted at all the problems that her actions had caused, she entered her chambers with a resigned exhale.

But before the door could close behind her, she beckoned Jaime to enter.

Though curious, Jaime declined, “My Lady, let me check on a few things first and then you will have my undivided attention. Meanwhile, Podrick, assist the Queen and keep her company until I get back.”

Podrick bobbed his head in acknowledgment and the heavy door shut with a resounding thud behind Jaime.

The Lord Commander of the Queensguard stared at it momentarily, and then he turned and marched towards the guest’s quarters.


	13. Chapter 13

After Jaime had escorted Brienne to her chambers, he went to have a little chat with Lord Randyll Tarly. It wasn’t to pacify the recalcitrant Lord’s perceived slight but more to let the odious man know that his time at King’s Landing was quickly running out. 

Surprisingly, Tarly had not brought any personal guards with him from Horn Hill. Instead, two of the new Queensguards stood at attention in front of the guest’s apartment. Normally, Jaime would have kept them stationed outside of Brienne’s chambers for her protection, but considering how close Tarly came to losing his life, it was more prudent to shield him from the queen’s wrath. Plus he did not trust the man to stay put. 

Arriving at his destination, Jaime rapped soundly on the chamber doors with his metal hand. It was especially loud because he was envisioning it knocking against the stubborn lord’s head.

Lord Tarly yanked open the door and glared at Jaime. After he obnoxiously sized Jaime up and down, he spat, “I see she sent her lap dog. Shouldn’t you be sniffing around her, instead?”

Jaime made sure to show his teeth when he said, “You will be ready to leave first thing in the morning.” Though phrased as a question, it was not. He wanted to emphasize to this vile man that he was to be gone at first light. 

Instantly Tarly sniped, “I will gladly leave this traitorous den of Kingslayers.” And he slammed the door in the Lord Commanders face.

Jaime snorted at such rude behavior and signaled the two nearby guards. “He is not to leave his chambers until the morning. Then he is to be escorted from the city under guard. Any problems prior to this, have a page find me immediately.” Jaime figured these new guards should at least know how sentry duty worked. Though they were still green to their new Queensguard responsibilities, they had military training.

They solemnly nodded to their Commander and stood straighter at the trust given to them.

As Jaime marched back to Brienne’s chambers to talk with her, he wondered what Tarly had said during the dance to cause such a volatile reaction from her. He recalled their earlier animosity towards one another when they had met before the coronation. Then the air was so thick with tension; he doubted that even Oathkeeper could cut through it.

Frowning in contemplation, Jaime realized that he had never seen Brienne react so violently before and it was disconcerting at how quickly she had erupted. Granted she was exhausted, emotionally frayed from the stress and lack of sleep, and a tad drunk. But still…

Maybe her behavior was linked to whatever bad happened between her and Tarly years ago when she was one of Renly’s knights. It must have been something so abhorrent that Brienne’s normal vaulted sense of self-control was easily tossed aside as she had done to the furniture.

He shook his head as he recalled how fierce and strong she had been. Well, she certainly was passionate, he thought with an errant grin. 

Jaime would never tell her, but seeing her like that was a turn on for him. Thankfully, the Queensguard armor provided full body coverage, or Brienne might have seen what her actions had done to him. Just recalling the memory forced him to once more readjust his lower anatomy to a more comfortable position. Though concealing, the armor did tend to pinch if he was not careful with his thoughts.

He smiled indulgently when he remembered how confident Brienne had been when she had strode from the side room to once more become the Queen. Even exhausted and aching, she forced herself to dance with another clumsy young Lord. Jaime could not feel more honored to know her.

During one of her interminable waltzes, Jaime had heard some of the catty insults murmured her way by the nobility, no doubt facilitated by that horrid man, Littlefinger. Alas, that meant it would not be long until the whole Keep knew about her actions.

Obviously, the scene Brienne had made earlier would be pettily whispered about. From what Brienne had told him of her upbringing, she was used to nasty comments whispered behind her back. But no matter how stoic she was, Jaime could tell that it was still taking its toll on her by the slump to her usual ramrod posture.

After another hour of dancing, it seemed that she could not take it anymore and she had signaled that she was ready to retire. As she limped towards the exit, Jaime could not miss the sneer of glee on Baelish’s features. Spying Podrick and the new Queensguard, Jaime knew he was not the only one who wanted to wipe that smug smile off that assholes face.

Shaking his head, Jaime did not think humiliating the Queen would help Baelish’s aspirations in becoming Hand. Littlefinger would soon find out that it was not smart to put Brienne on the defensive. She usually had a thick skin, a long memory, and a stronger fist. But still, it seemed that the insufferable man had successfully manipulated Brienne by sending Tarly after her.

Arriving at her chamber doors, Jaime nodded satisfied at the additional Queensguard’s that stood sentry outside. Though this new group would need a lot of training in how to deal with the pushy nobility, their hearts were in the right place as they challenged all comers. And that fierceness about them reminded Jaime of their exhausted charge.   
He curtly bobbed his head to them as they let him pass. Jaime then raised his left hand and lightly tapped his knuckles against on the door. He heard Brienne’s soft answer to, “Enter,” and he did as she commanded.

Surprisingly, the room was dark except for one lone lamp that lit a small corner of the room by her bed. It barely illuminated that section of her chambers, and he frowned, hoping this did not reflect Brienne’s mood. It reminded him too much of when his sister started closing down, shutting people out just before she killed their son and herself.

Well, he would not allow that to happen this time. He was not going to lose someone else that he cared for. Though with how stubborn Brienne was, he doubted that she would do such a thing. More likely she would just continue becoming distant until she was a shell of her former self.

He squinted as he focused on her quiet seated form. The light off of the lamp made Brienne’s normal alabaster skin stand out all the more. It barely looked as if she was breathing and her stillness made her appear statue-like.

Jaime began to walk towards her, taking her in. He was surprised to see her tucked so far away with a decanter of wine nearby on the side table. She was staring out of the open window into the night sky. The cold breeze did not seem to affect her and Jaime was reminded that she had spent a lot of time up North. 

She had already changed into her night clothes, and her thick robe was not sashed closed which exposed her muscular pale legs. She did not seem to mind that he had gotten a look at the long expanse of her legs. Right now it seemed that she did not care very much about anything. He shuddered when he was once more reminded of his dead sister.

Jaime wondered how much of tonight’s altercation affected her already fragile sense of confidence in regards to being Queen. If Baelish’s minor machinations hurt her this badly, they were in more trouble than he initially feared.

There was movement behind him, and Jaime spun with his hand on his weapon, surprised they were not alone. He relaxed when he spied Podrick standing up from a stool by the door. Jaime had forgotten he had sent Podrick in to keep an eye on her.

Pod nodded to Jaime; concern etched on his young features. He then glanced worriedly at Brienne.

“You Grace,” Podrick asked quietly as if afraid to interrupt Brienne’s introspection, “Do you wish me to stay.”

She turned and there was a surprised look on her face as if she had forgotten he had stayed. She smiled at him gently, “Thank you, Podrick. But I will be fine. Go get some rest.” 

He bowed to her, “As my Queen commands.” Podrick seemed relieved that Jaime was there to babysit her, and nodded his gratitude to the man. If anyone could get her to open up, it would be Ser Jaime.

Podrick left the room with a slight lift to his step. Jaime hid his grin; no doubt the lad was heading over to his friend Bronn’s chambers for some cards and drink. 

As the door began to shut, Jaime noticed that Brienne scowled when her ex-squire turned towards Bronn’s chambers and not to his own in the opposite direction. Knowing how protective she was of Pod, she must have worried about the older man’s influence on the young lad. Jaime would tell her later that Bronn would be perfect at knocking some of the naiveté off of Podrick. He’d need it, or he’d be eaten alive at court. Though the boy showed a good aptitude for politics, any extra trickery he could learn from the master of such would be a boon. 

Once the door was firmly shut, Brienne turned her gaze on Jaime. She dipped her head at him and indicated the empty chair across from her.

Making his way over, he then sat on the edge of the offered seat. 

Brienne tisked, “Ser Jaime, you look as if you about to spring into action. Sit back, relax.” She then indicated for him to help himself to the wine. 

Jaime declined her offering, “Sorry your Grace, but it is best if I kept my wits.”

She smiled ruefully, “As your Queen, I think it is best if you did as I asked.” She waved off his indignant protest, “Trust me, Jaime, I think you will need it.”

Frowning, he watched as she took another swallow of wine. He wondered if he should talk to her about excessive drinking and the problems of an imbibed ruler. If this became a habit, he would. The fact that it had been a rough week had him holding his tongue.

There was an empty cup nearby, and he filled it. Studying her morose features, he wondered if she was right in her suggestion after all.

After watching him take a sip, she sighed loudly, signaling that she was gearing up to tell what had happened. Taking another gulp of wine, she told him what Tarly had said to her while they danced. 

Once she had repeated those awful words about how a good rape was what she needed to make her more respectable to others opinion, Jaime stood abruptly with an angry exclaim, “That bastard!”

She calmly stared at him as he began to pace. 

Jaime’s blood practically boiled when what was whispered so intimately into her ear continuously repeated throughout his mind. He growled out angrily, “I am surprised he has any teeth left in his mouth after saying such a thing to you.”

Brienne nodded subtly and took a sip of wine.

He swore that when he got his hand around that bastard’s throat…! No, he would beat him to a bloody pulp with his metal hand. His mind raged with all the things he wanted to do that malicious fucker. 

Finally, her quiet voice broke through his anger, “Jaime, Jaime please sit down.”

He looked at her and nodded grudgingly. If she could be so composed after that disclosure, he supposed he should be as well. With a huff, he sat once more and angrily crossed his arms.

As he gnashed his teeth, he thought that no wonder she had reacted that way at the dance. He was surprised she had not done more than scream in the older Lord’s face. Tarly was lucky she did not have him beheaded on the spot. 

Barely under control, Jaime figured there was more to this. Obviously, this had all started a long time ago, so he growled out, “What is the history between you two?”

She sighed and took another large gulp of wine. “I met Lord Tarly back when he was hosting Renly’s troops down south. Needless to say, it did not go well.” She then proceeded to tell him that when the Lord of the manor had found out that her maidenhead was being wagered on by the knights, his patriarchal ways reared its head. The Lord called her into his office and proceeded to berate her, making it out that it was her fault and that she deserved whatever happened to her. It was only because he knew and respected her father that he had put a stop to it.

When her next confession had begun, Jaime had been clenching his fist and lightly pounding his golden hand against his thigh in anger. By the time it was over, he had wanted to march to Tarly’s room and smash his golden fist repeatedly into Tarly’s face. This was unacceptable! 

But her reflective tone helped calm him down somewhat. And it made him appreciate her all the more. She would have had every right to publically punish Tarly, and it spoke of her fortitude that the situation had not escalated further.

Running his hand through his hair to try to cool down, Jaime exhaled and said, “I am sorry that you had to go through that. Regardless of your gender, you are a phenomenal warrior, and if I could, I would hunt down all those so-called knights and remind them of such.”

She smiled at his compliment and chivalry, but she was also holding something back for her grin began to widen.

Frowning, he stared at her askew, “Alright, out with it, Brienne.”

Unable to hold in her mirth any longer, she dipped her head and said with a laugh, “Oh, I showed those knights when I proceeded to trounce them all on the tourney field.”

Her mood was infectious, and Jaime chuckled, “With a few added bruises and broken bones for good measure I presume. I can drink to that.” And he raised his cup in salute.

She joined in his toast and laughed more. “Yes, and it felt so good to let them have it.” She became somber. “I wish we could do something against Tarly, but you are right, we need him as an ally.”

Jaime glanced down to the floor, “Err, about that. I think it would be best if you distanced yourself from him.”

Now it was her turn to look at him awry, “What did you do?”

He shrugged innocently, “Only told him he is to leave first thing on the morrow, and frankly I think he is happy to do so.” He did not add that it would be beneficial to the older man’s health. After hearing what Tarly had said to her, Jaime could barely keep himself from racing down the hall and doing something drastic to the older lord.

“Oh, great.” She mumbled. Then her gaze became introspective as she silently studied him. He began to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

He squirmed under her sharp stare and quickly amended, “Frankly, it is not a good idea to have him as an ally. He does not respect you, and I think he would be more detrimental to your rule than a benefit.”

Her gaze became distant as she thought about it. “Good point. And honestly, I am glad. He is an insufferable jackass.”

The full exhale she did helped relax her tense shoulders slightly. To Jaime, it seemed that she was somewhat relieved that she could unburden herself to someone. Like him, she did not really have anyone she could confide in. 

He wished that she would open up to him more, though. He feared that when one stayed emotionally clogged for too long, they would eventually explode, such as she did during the dance. Jaime wondered how much was still pent up within. From now on, he would make sure that Brienne knew she could tell him anything at any time.

For as Queen, she could not allow herself to lose control like that again, no matter the circumstances. Yes, the coronation had been difficult, but it was nothing compared to dealing with petty lords and squabbling vassals. Alas, without a Hand, she had no one to buffer her from the problems of ruling.

That would explain why Baelish was turning up the heat on her. This was his way of proving to her that she could not rule on her own and that she would need someone such as him to keep these issues at bay. 

Nodding to himself, Jaime understood that it should be the Hands job to make sure that Tarly learned his lesson not to insult the Queen. Their unspoken role was they did all the dirty work so to spare the image of the Queen. Frankly, Brienne was too early in her reign to risk alienating any of her vassals, and that odious Lord of the Vale knew that. 

At this rate, Brienne would have no choice but to make Littlefinger her Hand just out of self-preservation. 

Jaime knew Brienne was in trouble if she gave Baelish that position. That man was in it only for himself. Jaime wished there was something he could do to help. There had to be someone other than Baelish to do this difficult job.

Maybe his good friend Addam Marband would be available. He would be strong enough to make sure that such treachery was punished. His friend wasn’t very subtle, but then maybe that was just what Brienne needed in the infancy of her rule.

Getting up, Jaime began to pace. Seething he ground out, “I wish I had more power so I could protect you from these things.” He stopped and tapped his chin in contemplation, “Actually, I might know of someone who could be your Hand instead of Littlefinger—“

When she took a deep breath to speak, Jaime stopped talking. Staring at her troubled features, he grimaced. He recognized that look; she was planning something that he was not going to like. 

Taking another swallow of wine, Brienne carefully placed her cup on the table beside his. “Jaime, I do know how you can help me.” She stared up at him hopeful, “You can be my Hand.” The expression on his face had her quickly begging, “Please, I know it is asking a lot of you, but you are the only one I can trust.”

He spun on his heel, angry that she would ask that of him. But underlying it all, he understood her reasoning. What choice did she have? It wasn’t fair she had to carry this entire burden herself. Her shoulders were only so large. 

When Cersei asked him the same thing (nearly word for word), she had made other promises that they could be together forever.

But unlike his self-absorbed sister, Brienne knew what this would cost him. She was nothing like Cersei who manipulated him at every turn to get her way. Brienne was too earnest for that. She would always be gentle and kind and most of all, honorable to her very core.

Jaime had denied his sister when she had made the same plea when their father died. But he could not reject his one true friend, his wench. She truly did need him. But still, he could not help but try to buy himself some time, “But what about my current position?”

“Captain Starling would take your place.” She took a deep breath, “Jaime, I understand your reluctance, but you are the only one I know who will have my back. I need the help of someone I can trust to help guide me and keep these awful people at bay. I certainly don’t trust Baelish or the Thorn. And I know you will protect me.”

“With my life,” Jaime said automatically. He could not help but smirk, “If you had not noticed, people do not last long as Hand.”

“Nor they do in the monarchy.” She shrugged to lessen the blow, “Actually, anyone in power really.”

She stood and moved towards him. Those long legs of hers carried her easily across the room to him. Though she was only a few inches taller, she still seemed to tower over him. Carefully her large calloused hands took both of his, and Jaime swore he could feel her heated touch through his metal hand.

He could not stop the small shudder of pleasure that ran threw his body. 

Unaware of how she had affected him, she grinned self-consciously, “I know I am being selfish, but you are the only one I can rely on.” The intimacy of her hold had him smiling despite himself. It brought up many possible scenarios and some not so unpleasant. 

If he became Hand, he would no longer be in the Queensguard, but would once more be Lord Lannister. And as such, he could pursue his Queen as a suitor. It was a fantasy he had thought of many times since she had come back to King’s Landing. Certainly, at the time, he had not envisioned being the Hand, but as a noble. Then he could have approached her with the power and strength behind his title and holdings. It had taken him losing his family to realize how lonely he was without Brienne in his life. And maybe now something more could happen between them. 

He meant it when he blurted out that he would do anything for Brienne, even be her lover. He cursed his weakness at the time. It was insulting to her honor and to his. But he had felt a glimmer of hope when she had paused before denying him.

Still, it was not a political position he felt all that comfortable with and he had to be honest with her. Loudly sighing, he nodded, “Alright, but only until you find someone else you can trust.”

Her smile of relief was worth the growing pit of dread in his stomach. He quickly grabbed the decanter and refilled his goblet and hers. There was still much to discuss, and he knew it was going to be a long night.

*

They had talked at length as to what their next move should be. It was mutually decided that an early meeting with the council was in order for the morrow. And gauging at how far the moon had moved in the night sky, they only had a few hours left till then.

There was a slight creak behind one of the decorative panels, and Jaime suddenly stopped in mid-sip, listening intently. Lurching to his feet, he staggered over to the wooden panel and put his ear to the wood. 

Brienne frowned at him but remained quiet. There weren’t any more noises, and Jaime questioned if it was too much drink or just an old Keep settling that he had heard. According to the new Maester, a heavy storm would be arriving sometime late tomorrow. Jaime knew from experience that the Keep often made sounds, especially during the winter months.

Still, he fleetingly wondered if Littlefinger’s little birds were flittering about nearby. But that was impossible, he knew for a fact that all the secret passages around this room had been blocked up. No one should be able to move the heavy debris out of the way. It would take too many men.

Shrugging, he stumbled back to the chair and chuckled softly to Brienne, “I seem to have had too much to drink. I am hearing things that go bump in the night.”

She smiled at the old expression and downed her cup. “I am just about there myself,” she slurred happily.

Raising his eyebrows at her actions, he then finished off his wine.

Both laughed. But from now on, Jaime planned on keeping his voice low whenever they talked. One never knew who could be listening in.

Seeing Brienne blurrily staring at the empty wine decanter, Jaime jerked to his feet.

Startled, she watched as he wobbled to the door and opened it. Poking his head out, Jaime ordered, “We need some water.”

He then came back and sprawled in his chair.

Her grin was sly as she slurred, “Too much for you, Ser Jaime?”

A smirk crossed his lips at her challenge, “I think we both could use a break.”

Once the water was brought in, Jaime prodded Brienne to drink it. “Trust me; it will help with your hangover.” 

She grimaced at the thought but did as he suggested.

They both then drank in silence; each caught up in their own distant thoughts. Every now and then, she would glance over at him guiltily. She seemed embarrassed to have asked so much of him. Normally she would have just handled it herself, but in this case, she knew she was in over her head.

Still stunned by her proposal, Jaime initially thought that being the Hand would constrain him, mold him into something he was not. But surprisingly he now felt liberated. No longer would he be compelled to follow other’s orders and rules. Well, he would obviously follow his Queen’s, but otherwise, he had the power and was beholden to no one else. 

Jaime was roused from his thoughts when he noticed that Brienne was sinking lower into her chair. She kept fighting not to shut her eyes. He could not imagine that she could stay awake much longer. She almost seemed like a child trying to stay up to see first light.

Grinning indulgently at the image, Jaime rose to his feet. “Come, your Grace, you need your rest.”

She grumbled something vulgar about the “Your Grace” comment but allowed him to help her up. As she stumbled to bed, her robe dropped from her shoulders and onto the carpet. Once they reached her bed, Jaime pulled back the covers, and she crawled under them.

As her head settled onto the plush pillow, she said, “I did not know that one of the Hands duties was to tuck the Queen in.”

Jaime could not help his smirk, “I have a feeling that your reign will set many new precedence’s, Brienne.”

Smiling in earnest, she then reached out and grasped his hand. “Thank you.” 

Her guileless blue eyes gazed up at him, and he knew he had made the right choice. 

Jaime’s throat suddenly went dry; his voice was a near whisper of promise, “Till the morrow, your Grace.”

When Jaime left the room, he ordered one of the pages to get Pod so he could keep an eye on her just in case she got sick from the drink. He would have stayed himself, but it would have caused more tongues to wag. Besides, he needed sleep for the council meeting tomorrow. He had a feeling he would need all his wits about him.

Pulling Captain Starling aside, Jaime briefly told him that he was promoted to Lord Commander to the Queen. Jaime assured the surprised man that after the council meeting, Starling's new position would be made official. 

Starling puffed up at the honor and assured Jaime, “I will never let anything happen to her.” 

Jaime patted the man on the shoulder and began to stagger back to his quarters. With each stuttered step, his thoughts continued to churn on what had been disclosed this evening.

Stumbling near the guest apartments, Jaime sneered. Exhaustion and the excessive amount of drink allowed his anger to resurface in regards to what Tarly had said to Brienne. Jaime was so mad; the rage once more coursed through his blood. 

Tarly should pay for his effrontery to the Queen. Jaime reasoned that since he was now Brienne’s Hand, that he had every right to confront the man. It was his duty to protect his Queen and what better way than to remind this unpleasant Lord as to who was in charge.

If Tarly had done this to Jaim’s sister, Cersei would have had Tarly’s head on a pike. But Brienne was too honorable to order such a punishment. 

He veered towards Tarly’s chambers, intent to remind him that he was lucky to be leaving King’s Landing in one piece. If Jaime had his way, he would have trebuchet the arrogant Lord into the shark infested waters.

Rounding the corner, Jaime stalked down the hall and entered the section of the guest apartments.

He straightened when he approached Tarly’s rooms. Jaime did not even acknowledge the two Queensguards who were looking at him in concern. Gauging the stern expression on Jaime’s face, one barked a quick order to a page, and the child darted off.

Ignoring the guards, Jaime pounded furiously on the thick door to Tarly’s room. A sleepy Randyll opened the door and could not help but smell Jaime’s breath. He sneered, “A drunk just like your sister.” 

Between that and the horrible words flickering through his mind, Jaime’s golden fist shot forward and Tarly tumbled backward into his room, blood spraying from his busted nose.

Jaime went to finish him, but the guards grabbed him and held him back. A stunned Tarly sat up groaning, holding his broken nose. 

Tarly seethed, “What is the meaning of this?”

Jaime wrestled one arm free, and he pointed his finger at the older man, “You are to never go near her again!”

“That giant cow is not fit to rule.” A sneering Tarly scrambled to his feet and moved towards Jaime. Neither guard knew who they should hold back.

One of the guards released Jaime and tried to stand between them. 

“That is the Queen, and you will show respect, or I will gladly beat it into you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Lannister.”

No longer in control, Jaime lunged free of the guard holding him and slammed into Tarly.

They began fighting, and Jaime got in a few more licks. He was too drunk and outraged to feel the hits being returned. He would later say this about the bastard; the old man could fight well. Finally, more guards raced up and pulled the two men apart. Jaime still fought to break free, “You are lucky I do not kill you for what you said to her! That is your Queen, and she deserves respect.”

“It is hard to respect someone who never deserved that position in the first place. I was right to say what I had; she needs to learn her place!” 

By his leer, Jaime knew exactly what he was alluding to. “If I ever see you again, I will kill you!”

Suddenly, larger hands grabbed Jaime and pulled him back, “Jaime he is not worth it.”

Brienne’s worried voice broke through his rage and the red haze that had surrounded his vision retreated.

His voice was hoarse from yelling, “Brienne, you should not be here. You should be in bed.” He noticed that other noble guests had come out of their chambers and were witnessing the whole thing.

By how Brienne teetered, she was still slightly drunk, but concern for him had seemed to help sober her up somewhat. Her robe was tightly cinched, and her hair was askew, but the sight of her calmed him down.

Podrick peeked around her and grimaced at him. 

Jaime nodded to her, and she released him. Jaime then tried to straighten his appearance, and that was when he registered a determined Captain Starling standing protectively by the Queen’s side. 

Though Jaime saw that the right guard had been chosen, he still felt out of sorts for no longer being her Commander of the Queensguard. He had been the role of protector for so long, he almost felt at a loss of what to do now. Emptiness seemed to engulf him as he realized just how his responsibilities had changed from what he was so used to. 

Other than his brief stint as a Lord in the Riverlands, he had always been a Knight of the sacred guard. Being Hand was a new unknown territory for him, and he wondered if he had done the right thing after all.

Misreading his expression, Brienne smiled gently, ignoring the mocking huff of a laugh that Tarly made at their expense.

She offered him her hand. “Come, Jaime, we have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Yes, don’t let me keep you two up.”Tarly sneered at her.

Pivoting to scowl at the older Lord, Jaime barely controlled himself as he snidely commented, “If you ever step foot here again, I will personally beat you within an inch of your life!”

Jaime ignored Brienne’s offered hand; though in honesty he wanted to wrap himself in her strong embrace. Instead, he briskly nodded to her, glared at the bemused Lord Tarly and stormed towards his chambers.


	14. Chapter 14

It was early the next morning when Jaime and Brienne slowly approached the doors to the council meeting. They were a team now, and they drew strength from one another. That was good since they needed to occasionally prop each other up along the way due to still being hung-over. 

Jaime was especially wrung out. After storming away from Tarly’s apartment, he had gone to his chambers. Unsure if he could get to sleep because he was so angry, he decided to drink more. 

When he had awoken later, he found himself half dressed in his gear, with a splitting headache and no memory of the rest of his night. And his golden hand was missing. Probably thrown it off in anger, he thought. He’d check under the bed when he did not suffer from vertigo so much. That was where it usually ended up when he had tossed it off in disgust.

Instead, Jaime would have to shove the more ornate one on that Cersei had always insisted he wear, but that he found too ostentatious and inefficient for his needs. He sighed, resigned that it was going to be one of those mornings.

With his head pounding, Jaime groaned when he twisted his body over to stare at the ceiling. As thoughts settled to the front of his mind, he vaguely recalled his dreams. In the beginning, they were of being with Brienne, a happy, joyous time. But then they would shift into a nightmare, and she was dragged away from him. 

Unspeakable things happened, and this time he could not save her from being raped by the Brave Companions. He shivered as her shrieks and cries echoed in his mind. No doubt last night’s conversation between him and Brienne had left an indelible imprint on his memory.

If he had not been running late, Jaime would have marched to Tarly’s chambers and thrown him out personally, probably through the nearest window. He’d be relieved when that obnoxious man was escorted away from the Keep for good.

With a grumble, he shifted his weight and rolled out of bed and onto his feet. It took a bit to straighten upright; his body was killing him. He remembered the tussle that he got into with Tarly last night and rubbed his aching back and chin. 

Staggering over to the mirror, he then tried to make himself more presentable. He brushed his hair over his bruised eye and gingerly flexed his sore jaw. Damn, that old man could hit, he thought impressed. Jaime did not remember much of the fight, only not to underestimate someone like that again. Tarly was known for his strategic mind, and by how much pain Jaime felt, he knew how to fight well too!

Jaime realized he was getting too old for this shit. Maybe it was just as well that he was moving on to a new vocation that was less physical. But then he did not relish being made Brienne’s Hand. With a worried exhale, he figured he would just have to do the best he could. 

Though he was no longer leader of the Queensguard, he still dunned his Lord Commander armor. Not only was his new position still unofficial, but Brienne thought it best to do the formal changeover in front of the council. It was time that they found out that she was the Queen and not some pushover that they could control. 

Realizing that this was the best he could manage with his appearance, he exited his room and headed towards the Queen’s apartments.

There, he nodded to the guards and knocked on the door lightly. He was allowed in, and he spied his Queen staring aimlessly out of the window.

Softly he asked, “Are you ready, your Grace?”

Brienne turned to face him, and they shared a smirk as they took in the others exhausted appearance. He knew he looked worse for wear, especially when compared to her. Thankfully, Brienne’s maids had tricks that helped conceal the dark circles under her eyes. But even their talents could not disguise the fatigue that still hobbled her usual dour expression. 

“That will be the last time I ever drink,” she grumbled, and Jaime nodded in sympathy. For her, it had been a rough night of bad dreams and nausea. Thankfully, Pod had been there to help when she had gotten sick.

She did not think it fair to drag her exhausted squire along to the council meeting, and had excused Pod earlier. He had been such a Godsend throughout their journey together. She had decided last night that when all this was settled, she would knight Pod. It was the least she could do for one of her more trusted friends.

After a determined nod, Brienne and Jaime made their way towards the council chambers. With each step, Jaime was drawn closer to his destiny, and he grew more and more apprehensive. The thought that he could fail at his new duty buffeted his tired mind. He did not want to disappoint Brienne. The concern he felt warred with his pride, he was a Lannister after all, damn-it. He wondered what Tyrion would have done in this situation and then growled at the thought of his traitorous brother.

On the walk there, Brienne cautiously gauged Jaime’s brooding manner, “Do you want to tell me what last night was all about? What did you hope to gain by beating up Tarly?”Unsaid was her rebuke. Her Hand must be more in control if she was going to prove to the council that she had made the right decision in awarding Jaime such a vaulted position.

Jaime frowned, “It won’t happen again.” 

She took in Jaime’s scowl. Grimacing, she nodded in agreement. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Tarly’s such an ass.”

Jaime snorted, and the mood lifted between them. He leaned closer to her and she to him, the minor rift between them abated. They stayed close for the remainder of their journey.

Arriving at the council doors, Brienne and Jaime both took a deep breath and then looked at one another.

“Are you still sure about making me your Hand?” He asked, his tone practically begging her to change her mind.

Her genuine smile pushed the fatigue away from her eyes. She solemnly intoned, “More than you will ever know.”

Brienne’s unspoken assurance in him shored up his confidence, and Jaime let out his breath. Silently, he vowed that he could do this for her.

Determined, he pushed open the doors and escorted her in.

When they entered the chambers, Brienne took in the seated council members. Baelish cockily smirked at the two of them. No doubt he had heard what had happened last night with Lord Tarly. 

Brienne supposed there were not many people who hadn’t heard what happened, she thought with a tired sigh. She suspected that his studied gaze noticed how hungover she was. And by the size of his leer, he probably linked it to his duplicitous machinations of using Tarly against her. Brienne was sure that he thought he had won his little game. To him, she would have no choice but to make him her Hand to stop any more problems like that from coming her way.

Brienne took this all in and inwardly grinned. Baelish was in for a big surprise. 

She looked at the Tyrell’s and saw they were attentively gauging her. Well, mostly Olenna was, her son Mace had his usual expression of boredom. She supposed it helped that neither had attended the coronation party and had gotten to bed early. Bed, what she wouldn’t do to be reposed in one right now. 

As Brienne marched determinedly to her chair, she planned on showing them that she meant business. It was time she took control of the situation; she was the Queen now. Alas, hubris decided to dictate her path and her large feet got in the way. Brienne’s haughty gaze was ruined when she accidentally kicked her big toe against her chair leg. Biting her lip to stop from crying out, she then sat down hard on her chair. Baelish smirked more, and Brienne nearly let him have it, but Olenna leaned over signifying she wished to say something.

Brienne frowned and focused on the older woman. She had not seen such a bright smile from the Thorn in a long time. Lady Olenna practically gushed, “My grandson Loras very much enjoyed last night’s dance, your Grace. Perhaps you could have lunch with him today as well?” 

Sweetly, Brienne said, “Of course, my lady, it would be my pleasure.” Butter could have melted in her mouth, Brienne thought amused. She was also a tad horrified at how easy she was playing the game. But then, she reasoned, if she wanted to keep her integrity intact, she should never have set foot in King’s Landing to be the Queen. 

Regardless, the Thorn was a shrewd woman and knew that Brienne could not say ‘no’ to her requests. Olenna believed that Brienne was indebted to the Tyrell’s, and she was right. Already they had promised to supply food for the soon to be starving country. The realm would need all the help they could get with the approaching deadly winter.   
But two could play the obligation game, especially if Brienne was expected to marry Loras. She justified that the compensation should be bigger since she was Queen. She recalled that the Tyrells’ also had a large army and Brienne wondered how she could use those troops to her advantage.

Alas, she would have to marry Loras to get such things. At least Olenna was not against Brienne and Jaime having a relationship outside of her marriage. 

When Olenna first proposed this, Brienne believed it would have been dishonorable for Jaime and her to be together if he stayed her Lord Commander, but as Hand, it freed him to be her lover and so much more. Maybe she could marry Jaime instead… no, they needed the food too much. But he could still be her lover—

This whole idea made her wonder how much her moral compass had changed. But she reasoned that for her entire life she had never given herself anything, so why could she not have Jaime? The whole thought process made her already sour stomach clench.

Olenna’s pleased voice cut through Brienne’s introspection, “Good, good, and I will join you for lunch. It would never due for you two to be alone together. And then we can talk about that horrible Lord Tarly. Word was there was quite a scene last night.” 

The older woman’s studied gaze ratcheted to Jaime and then she glanced back to Brienne, “I could have told you Tarly was nothing but trouble, your Grace. Why just last week he was threatening my holdings. I cannot help it if I need more land for all the food you requested for this upcoming winter. And as my vassal, he should not stand in the way of our needs. I think sanctions are in order, maybe even a new Lord of Horn Hill.”

Brienne only nodded as Lady Olenna talked. Though she disliked Randyll Tarly, she found that Olenna’s actions were rather dastardly. This power grab of hers had started well before Brienne had asked for the additional food. 

Besides, all Houses were proud, especially the older ones and Tarly’s was no exception. No, this was just an excuse for the crafty older woman to expand her land without compensation to her vassal. Olenna could claim land rights, and when he fussed too much, she could then have him removed and put someone more malleable into that House. But as Queen of the realm, Brienne could prevent this from happening if she chose to do so. 

Thinking, Brienne glanced between Olenna and Baelish, wondering if last night’s altercation was a joint venture between these two crafty individuals to manipulate her into getting what they wanted. 

Rubbing her throbbing temples, she was glad Jaime was to be her Hand. Instead of voicing her thoughts, Brienne regally stated, “We can certainly talk more about this at lunch, my lady.”

Olenna beamed and nodded her approval. “Yes, and I hope this signals that good things will happen between our two Houses.”

A smug Baelish oozed, “Of course it does, but surprisingly that was not the topic of conversation that had tongues wagging during the dance. Word had already spread throughout the entire Keep about your emotional outburst regarding Lord Tarly, your Grace. Which is most impressive, usually it takes at least until morning for such gossip to make the rounds.”

Olenna tried to lessen Baelish’s verbal blow, “Do not worry, your Grace. Unified, we can take care of Tarly soon.”

Baelish’s voice grew louder as he tried to make his point over Olenna’s placating gesture, “True, but this altercation still does not look good on your first day as reigning Queen. Now I did my best to quell the most salacious rumors,” He pointedly stared at Jaime, “but I am afraid I can only do so much with the power I currently have.”

Brienne did not know which outrageous statement to address first.

When it looked like Littlefinger was going to continue with more of his unique perspective, Brienne interjected quickly and addressed all three of them, “Thank you all for indulging me on my first day as officially your Queen. I promise I will keep this brief. I believe that the most important job should be assigned as soon as possible.”   
As if thinking he was to be declared the Hand, Baelish interrupted and took over the conversation. 

“Thank you, my Queen. The first order of business is the need to remind the North as to who is in charge.” Brienne pursed her lips and stilled Jaime before he could interrupt. Baelish frowned at this, but Brienne signaled for him to continue. Let him string himself along.

Taking her silence as his cue, Baelish continued, “Yes, um… There is much instability up there, what with the traitorous Starks in power and the Bolton’s now all dead. Not only is there an issue with Winterfell, but with the Bolton’s House wiped out, someone needs to take the Dreadfort over. I have enough Vale troops to successfully do so.”

Brienne knew his real goal was to get Sansa Stark back in his clutches. And it was only a matter of time that once the Dreadfort was in his control; he would then use that strategic stronghold to take over all of the North. Brienne was tempted to let him thin out his troops, but they would be needed for the real menace from the North. She had no wish to deplete his soldiers beforehand.

Brienne smiled pleasantly and dipped her head in gratitude. “Thank you for reminding me of your Vale troops, Lord Baelish, and I do have need of them. They will definitely come in handy up North.”

Baelish preened thinking he was getting his way. “Glad you realize the threat up there,” Littlefinger snidely stated. He was truly incorrigible when he thought he was getting his way.

Nodding, Brienne said, “Yes, but it seems that the Northern Lords already have the Dreadfort under control, so it is unnecessary for your soldiers to go there. What we really need is the Wall being properly guarded.” Just before an outraged Littlefinger could interrupt, she declared regally, “Lord Baelish, I call upon your Vale troops to help the Night Watch fortify the Wall. There are many evil creatures that are trying to invade our land from the other side.”

He blanched at her words, “But, your Grace, that is just a myth. The real threat is from Winterfell itself.”

Now she coolly stared at him, and he actually shrank from her gaze. Jaime barked at the man, “You heard your Queens order. Send the Vale troops to the Wall.”

Littlefinger glared at Jaime but nodded to the Queen. “Of course, your Grace.”

Olenna could barely keep the glee from her voice, “I can certainly send some soldiers up there to … assist Lord Baelish’s troops at the Wall. We would not want them to get lost on their way there.”

“Thank you, that is most generous of you, my lady.” Brienne could not stop the smugness heard in her tone, and Baelish glanced at her sharply.

“Yes, most gracious.” Baelish crowed back to Olenna unconvincingly.

Staring at Brienne, Baelish asked innocently, “And I suppose I am to join them up North?” By his shrewd gaze, Brienne knew he planned to go to Winterfell instead and meddle. For the sake of the Starks and the entire realm, it was best to get him out of Westeros as soon as possible.

Brienne recalled what Jaime had said last night about Baelish. That he used to be in charge of the coin of the realm. Maybe that job would keep him busy enough. He could certainly carry on those duties elsewhere.

“Actually, I have need of you to go overseas to the Iron Bank and call in the credit that is owed us.”

Olenna crowed, “What a marvelous idea, your Grace.” She did not even sound upset that Brienne had taken the role away from Mace.

“But your Grace!” Baelish reacted horrified, “Even when I was in charge of coin under Baratheon’s rule, I was never sent overseas.” 

Brienne had heard of his dislike for traveling long distances by boat; it was legendary. Supposedly it made him queasy, which brought more joy to her. Brienne vowed to make Baelish pay for embarrassing her last night. Though, if she was honest, the onus was on her for letting her emotions take over in the first place. She then thought of Lady Sansa and her family. After all the hell Littlefinger had put the Starks through, this would not be a bad compensation.

At least the ocean was one body of water he could not manipulate to his gain, she thought with a smirk. And the bank in Braavos was even worse to try to negotiate with in their home territory. Brienne figured this would keep Baelish out of her way for a long time. Who knows, maybe Ayra Stark was still there and would take care of the problem for her.

“But the Iron Bank is more than willing to come to us.” He said through gritted teeth.

Brienne smiled politely, “This is very important to me, Lord Baelish and I think it would be best if you personally spoke with them there.” By the glower aimed at her, he obviously saw this for what it was, a ploy to get him gone.

Baelish no longer smiled confidently. He leaned close and husked, “Surely you are still not peeved about what happened in that inn near the Vale a while back? It was just a misunderstanding.”

Brienne sneered, “Even though you sent your men after me and my squire? No, I was not the one that paid for your treachery that time up North, Lord Baelish.”

He quickly tried to explain himself, “Lady Sansa knew what she was getting when she married Ramsay —“

Brienne’s hands clenched so hard; there was an audible pop. Littlefinger’s eyes bugged when he noticed how red Brienne’s face had gotten. He realized that it was not from embarrassment, but from rage. 

Her hands shook, and she forced herself to calm down. Though tempted to box his ears, Brienne knew her anger could get her in trouble. No doubt he would use any physical attack against him to get her removed from the throne. Probably would put that brat, Robin Arryn on it in her stead. By now he most certainly wished that he had done so instead of pushing for her to be the Queen.

Desperate he pleaded, “But your Grace. How can I assist you here if I am leagues away?”

There was a sound of a chuckle from Olenna. Her eyes were bright with possibilities.

Brienne’s tone brooked no favor, “And your service in this function will help the Crown tremendously.”

“But that is the role of the Lord of Coins—“ He glanced over at Mace, but the older man seemed to be nodding off with his eyes open. Concerned at how all his plans were crumbling, Baelish harshly whispered to Brienne, “But surely I am to be your Hand.”

Last night, Jaime wisely suggested striking when the confused Littlefinger faltered. 

Brienne dipped her head and nodded to those at the table. With Baelish bewildered, only Olenna stared at her intrigued, and Brienne stated, “Actually, that was the main reason why I had called you all in this early. There are many things that I hoped to accomplish this week, but the most pressing matter being my choice for the Hand.”

It was beginning to dawn on Baelish that things were not going in the direction that he wanted, and his fingernails raked loudly down the table top. 

Ignoring the scraping sound, Brienne stated commandingly, “For that important position, I appoint Lord Jaime Lannister.”

Baelish sputtered and nearly choked then and there. He shot to his feet. “This is ridiculous! He cannot be the Hand.”

“And why not?” Brienne asked imperiously.

“Well he—he,” But Baelish could not come up with a better rejoinder than, “He is sworn to the Queensguard.”

“And as Queen, I can remove him from it. You know that, my Lord.” 

Baelish sat down hard. He tried to talk sense to her, and his placating tones made Brienne want to laugh in his face, “But your Grace, you said, you said I was the best candidate to be the Hand.”

Brienne cordially rebuked, “No, I said you were the one with the most experience to be the Hand.” She turned her attention to include all seated at the table. “I think what this realm requires is a team effort to get everything it so desperately needs accomplished.” 

She and Jaime had worked on this as they drank their second bottle of wine. She hoped it sounded as good now as it did then. “The Hand and the Queen must work well together; know each other’s strength and weaknesses. From our time together in the past, Lord Jaime and I have proven that we are a cohesive unit, one that will stand together to bring the people what is best for them.” 

Baelish mockingly pointed out, “If I recall correctly, you are alluding to your time together in the Riverlands. And as I remember, Ser Jaime lost his hand during your… adventure together.”

Jaime flinched at the mention of his hand. Though much time had elapsed; the memories were still close to the surface. He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded deep from emotion, “At the time, if it weren’t for Lady Brienne, I would have died. She nursed me and urged me to live when all I wanted to do was die. It is that tenacity that the city needs if we are to survive the upcoming trials.”

Lady Olenna said brusquely, “That is all well and good, but how does that qualify you for the position?”

Jaime thought a moment as he collected himself. He said, “One could say that what happened then had changed me in many ways, most for the positive. I know I have become a better man from the ordeals we faced together. And I will look out for the people and for my Queen.” Jaime smiled proudly at Brienne, and she nodded her thanks to him. A look of affection then passed between them.

Brienne heard a soft intake of breath, and her eyes fell on Olenna. The older woman’s gaze was sharp as she took this all in. By the calculating stare aimed her way, Brienne supposed that Olenna was already adding to the list of what she owed the Tyrell’s. At this rate, she might have to marry Loras next week!

Baelish looked incredulously at Brienne, “But are you sure he is the best one to be the Hand, my lady?”

Brienne overlooked his intended slight regarding her title. “Yes, I have made my decision. We will have the official swearing-in later today in front of the whole court.” 

While Baelish seethed, Brienne studied the Tyrell’s. 

An awakened Mace was frowning in confusion at what had just happened. Brienne supposed she would have to find him a new job now that he was no longer Lord of the Coin. Maybe she would put him in charge of surplus distribution. Made sense since most of the food would be coming from the Tyrell’s land anyway. Probably would be better at being in charge of naps, Brienne thought amused. 

Turning to the Thorn, Brienne gulped when she took in the angry glare from Lady Olenna. Though the older woman had not stated any admonishment to Jaime’s appointment, Brienne could tell that the octogenarian was not too pleased with her choice of Hand. She had hoped to have Olenna in her corner. She really did not want to have to fight the council so early in her reign.

Clearing her throat, Brienne was about to continue the meeting when a voice rose from the table.

“I would like to call a recess.” Surprisingly it was not Baelish who asked for this. Brienne saw Olenna wave her arthritic hand to get her attention. 

Nodding, Brienne allowed it, wondering what the older woman wished to tell her, but dreading it at the same time.

Instead, Olenna beckoned Jaime to come over to her. Unsure what this was about, Jaime left Brienne’s side and bent to listen to what Olenna had to say. This allowed Baelish to lean close to Brienne and whisper threateningly, “It is unwise to make an enemy of me, your Grace.”

Outraged, Jaime moved his hand to his pommel, but Brienne signaled that she would handle this. Jaime still watched them closely.

Olenna went back to congratulating Jaime, but Brienne could tell that she was listening in on their conversation.

Undeterred by the eavesdropper’s Baelish continued, “I know many skeletons in your closet. Not to mention your traitorous actions up North.” Brienne glared at him and almost admonished him about his own involvement, but he pressed on, “I urge you to change your mind. For the betterment of the people, you do not want your reign bogged down with any political fallout. It could not only lead to you being replaced but sent to the dungeons to rot as a collaborator to the North. Your short legacy as Queen would be tarnished for decades. Now I can be a good ally or a harsh enemy.” 

Baelish frowned when he took in Brienne’s mulish dour features. Deciding to take a different track, he nodded in Jaime’s direction, “Without you to protect him; I can make his very existence unpleasant for the short time he would have left. I know he sent you on your treasonous quest to help the Stark girls.”

The threat to Jaime had Brienne bristling. The pursuant glare was so fierce that Littlefinger flinched from the intensity. Brienne was so mad, she could hardly contain herself, and she said with a dangerous low growl, “Lord Baelish, you would be wise not to threaten him.”

Realizing she could not be intimidated, a desperate Baelish said, “Fine, you can keep him as your paramour, but marry me instead of Loras.” His despairing words were met with her silence, but Olenna’s scoffing answer could be heard.

“You have some nerve, Lord Baelish.” Olenna’s admonishment intensified her strength, and she shoved Jaime aside to get into it with Littlefinger.

Before Olenna could fully integrate herself, there was a commotion outside the chambers. It sounded as if someone was loudly being denied entry, but their outraged demands were muffled by the thick doors. 

Brienne glanced to Jaime, who stared at her and the door apprehensively. It was obvious that he dreaded leaving her alone with these vipers.

Baelish spat to Jaime, “If you are to be the Hand, you need to deal with it.”

Jaime pursed his lips, but before he could reply, Brienne said, “I will be alright, Lord Jaime.”

“As my Queen commands.” She heard the anger in his voice, but before she could say anything, Jaime curtly bowed and left the room. Brienne recalled that Jaime had already chided her for keeping him away when she needed protecting. But she could handle those present.

When the door opened, there was the sound of a scuffle. As she rose to her feet, Baelish grabbed her arm. She pulled back and automatically raised her fist. Hearing Olenna’s gasp, Brienne forced herself to relax, and she sat back down. 

Olenna brought the subject back to what was important to her, “Do not try to weasel yourself into that position, Lord Baelish.” Instead of smugness, there was an indignant anger in her voice. “The Queen has promised that my grandson Loras would be her betrothed.” The Thorns eyes flashed not at Littlefinger, though. The haughty gaze was aimed squarely at Brienne. 

Brienne was about to say something when Baelish interjected, “She has made no formal promises in regards to that.” Baelish turned back to Brienne, “Please my Queen, I can be of better use by your side than leagues away overseas.”

But before he could plead more, he heard his name being called from outside. He ignored it, until Olenna spat, “You are being paged, my Lord.”

He frowned at her and began to correct her, but a look must have passed between them. Suddenly, he nodded to Olenna and stood. Brienne wondered if Olenna had something on him. Also, it was just as likely that he pandered to the crafty older woman’s expertize in getting Brienne to see reason.

Curtly bowing, Baelish then stormed from the room. When the door opened, there was madness outside, and Brienne yearned to face that insanity instead of the shrewd older woman who studied her with practiced ease.

With the voices rising, the thick closing doors once more shut out the noise. 

Tiredly sighing, Brienne wondered if it was too late to go back home to Tarth. Instead, she steeled herself for the confrontation. “Lady Olenna, your thoughts?”

The older woman sat back with a loud exhale, “My thoughts?” Olenna seemed to contemplate the best words to say but then changed her mind. Instead, she said the furthest thing that Brienne expected to hear, “Frankly, I am concerned about Dorne. They have been pushing against my boundary, and I fear we might have to go to war against them.”

Startled at the change of topic, Brienne frowned. She had no idea what this had to do with making Jaime the Hand. She decided to see what game Olenna was playing at.   
Shrugging, Brienne said, “Well, certainly war should be our last option.”

Smiling pleased, Olenna crowed, “Exactly, I am glad that we are in agreement.”

Brienne gulped unsure of what she had just set herself up for.

Olenna studied Brienne carefully when she stated, “With Lord Jaime now an eligible bachelor, perhaps it is best if he married one of the Dornish highborn women instead of being your Hand. War would be averted, and it would be a gentle way to bring the Dornish sovereignty under your singular rule.” 

“But, but, surely there is someone else. I have need of him to be here with me.” Brienne’s instantaneous protest had a shrewd Olenna nodding as if to say, ‘I thought so.’

A tight smile graced Olenna’s old thin lips, “What? You do not think that a marriage alliance between him and Ellaria Sand is a good idea, your Grace?” 

“I – I honestly haven’t given it much thought.” Flustered, Brienne stood and began to pace. 

Olenna sat back and watched her with rapt attention. “But surely with his new freedom, Lord Jaime could help bring peace to our lands through marriage.” 

Brienne’s mind spun and desperate she tried to think of a good way out of this.

Quickly, Brienne said, “It is a fine suggestion, but I have another way to deal with Dorne that would work out better for all. We marry Loras to Ellaria.” She hoped she did not sound too anxious. She did not want to lose Jaime so soon now that they could be together. She kicked herself for opening him up to such games.

The older woman’s eyes flared. “Actually, I think it would be best for the realm if Lord Jaime was married soon and sent elsewhere. We would not want anyone to assume improprieties between you two.” 

Brienne finally saw why Olenna was called ‘The Thorn.’ Her barbed words left bloody marks. But Brienne was known for being stubborn, and her jutting chin stood out like a fist. Angrily she bit out, “Meaning?” 

“You know what I mean, your Grace,” snapped Olenna.

Brienne hissed, “But the other day you had no problem with Jaime becoming my lover while I was married to your grandson?”

“I said that when Ser Jaime was not in any position to marry you when he was forbidden to do so. Now that he is free of the Queensguard, marriage will be expected of him.   
Obviously, you two would wed thus leaving my grandson out.” Visibly calming, Olenna let her words do the damage, “Don’t look so shocked, my dear. Nearly the entire realm knows that you two love one another. To have kept him as your lover, you should have left him as your Lord Commander.” 

Her biting words took the bluster from Brienne and tired; she sat down. Brienne waved her hand about the room, “So you want Littlefinger as the Hand?”

Knowing she had won, Olenna’s smile was a row of condescending blunted teeth, “At least I know what to expect from that man.” 

Snorting, Brienne realized that her suspicions had just been confirmed. The Thorn had something on Baelish after all.

“But surely—“ Brienne stopped her plea and suddenly sat up straight. 

It dawned on her that once more she had taken the submissive role. She had forgotten what she had vowed, that she would lead, not follow. Last night she had told Jaime that her first order of business was to remind them who was in charge. She had been raised a highborn lady, and now she was Queen.

She steeled herself and challenged Olenna, “Jaime is staying, and he will be my Hand.”

The Thorn recognized the gleam of regal stubbornness in Brienne’s eyes. She shook her head and asked, “And that is your final command?”

Brienne’s finger poked the table top hard for emphasis, “I am the Queen, and I am in charge here.”

Olenna’s smile was sad, “So idealistic. You have a lot to learn about ruling, my dear.”

Before Brienne could put the older woman in her place, Jaime wearily marched back into the room. A smug Littlefinger and a group of armored guards followed close behind him. Brienne became concerned as she gauged Jaime’s worried look.

She then noticed that the ex-Kingsguard Kettleback was among the group. The tall knight appeared very eager about something. 

Trailing behind them, the new Queensguard appeared pale and shaken. Their attire was disheveled as if they had physically tried to stop this large man from entry. At the rear of the room, the old Kingsguard crowded those in the front. 

Brienne glanced sharply to Jaime for the answer, but he did not say anything.

“What is going on?” Brienne asked. Olenna added a disapproving huff at the interruption.

Jaime glanced at his feet and then stared at Brienne, “Your Grace, I am sorry to inform you that Lord Randyll Tarly has been found murdered in his chambers.”

“What?” Brienne shot to her feet, while an equally surprised Olenna slowly got to hers. Her movement roused the sleeping Mace who blurrily glanced about confused.

“Yes, such sad news, but not so surprising after what happened last night between Ser Jaime and him.” Littlefinger sounded triumphant as he ordered, “Tell her Grace what you told us as to his cause of death.”

Brienne then noticed that the shorter Maester was tucked in the back of the group and those before him parted easily. He appeared flustered, “Your Grace, it appears that Lord Tarly had been bludgeoned to death with a heavy object. The first blow was to the back of the head, and it was practically caved in.”

Seeing his chance, the conniving Lord Baelish pounced, “Tell me, Ser Jaime, where is the golden hand that you wore last night.”

Jaime frowned and growled, “Somewhere in my room.”

“Hum—“ Baelish crooned mockingly.

Just then, Blount rushed in out of breath. Huffing and puffing from the exertion, Brienne wondered if for his health maybe she should move him away from being her food taster so he could lose some weight.

But then she noticed what he proudly waved around, and she thought that a rich diet was not the worst punishment he should get. 

Blount said between pants, “I found it ….under his bed… milord.” But instead of passing the golden hand to Brienne, he tossed it to Lord Baelish. 

“This is ridiculous, let me see it,” Brienne demanded. She blew out a curse when Baelish handed it to Olenna and not her. The Thorn examined it carefully and snorted in surprise. Brienne lost patience and grabbed the golden hand from the older woman.

An insulted Jaime admonished, “What right did you have to check my quarters.”

As Olenna tutted at Brienne’s rude behavior, Baelish smiled. His voice was the pure sugar of victory, “We have every right to check your chambers when you are the top suspect for murder.” Before Jaime could protest once more, Baelish nodded to the metal hand Brienne held, “My Lord, can you explain why there is dried blood on it.”

Jaime snarled, “You know damn well why. I hit Tarly with it.” 

Thoughtful, Baelish stroked his chin, “Ah, so you admit that you killed him.”

Outraged, Jaime yelled in frustration, “This is ridiculous! He was very much alive when I left him last night after our fight.”

Baelish signaled the old Kingsguards to come forward, “My Lord, I promise that we will verify your story. But for now, you are under arrest for the murder of Lord Randyll Tarly. Arrest him, gentlemen.”

As the large soldiers closed in, Jaime stared beseechingly at Brienne. By his concerned gaze, he was trying to tell her something, but she did not understand. She only knew that he did not wish to be taken away.

“Now see here—“ Brienne rose to her full height and towered over nearly all in the room. Her strong voice was commanding as she ordered the ex-Kingsguard Kettleback, “I am your Queen, and you are to release Lord Jaime, now.” 

Ignoring her, he looked to Baelish for his orders. Littlefinger waved him off. Preparing to leave, Kettleback tightened his grip on Jaime’s arm. With a nod to Blount, the corpulent ex-Kingsguard did the same.

A livid Brienne went to pull Jaime away from them when Olenna placed her small hand on Brienne’s thick arm and said, “Sorry my dear, but it seems that not even his position as the Hand will protect him now.”

Fuming, Brienne watched as they began to drag Jaime from the room.


	15. Chapter 15

A seething Brienne glowered at the insubordinate ex-Kingsguards as they yanked Jaime towards the exit. The thought that her closest friend and ally was being taken away to the dungeons made her stomach clench.

Taking rein of her churning emotions, Brienne remembered that she was still the Queen. Which meant that this situation called for a different approach than what she normally would do. Frankly, they were lucky she did not use Jaime’s golden hand to beat them all bloody. Instead, she calmly placed the heavy object on the table and faced her foes.

Brienne brought herself up to full height and regally demanded, “As your Queen, I command you to stop.” But Kettleback and Blount ignored her. The two men seemed to be enjoying this too much. Brienne figured they felt humiliated because she had removed them from the Kingsguard. But when they twisted Jaime’s arms behind his back painfully, Brienne realized this went deeper than any perceived slight due to her. 

The hell with it. If they would not respect her title, then they damn well better respect her reputation. Before they could march Jaime from the room, Brienne’s voice became dangerously low, “You will do as I say, or you will be sorry.”

The threat was plain in her tone, and Kettleback hesitated for a moment. But once more he looked not to her, but to Baelish for direction. That just confirmed that this was probably a ploy that Littlefinger had instigated. Or more likely saw as an opportunity to use to his advantage. 

Grabbing her heavy chair, Brienne lifted it up and then slammed it back onto the floor with a resounding crack. That got them to focus on her. Though it was getting harder to smother the rage that boiled within, she once more stated evenly, “I forbid you to take him away. Not until we get to the bottom of this.” 

Olenna touched Brienne’s arm cautiously, “My dear; it is better for him to be in the dungeons. Later we will figure this out.”

Brienne had not missed the earlier look passed between the Thorn and Littlefinger. It was obvious that they were teaming up against her and wanted to isolate her from her friends and allies. Both had not been pleased with her making Jaime her Hand. It went against so many of their plans. 

Honestly, Brienne wondered if Jaime would last a night in the dungeons before he was found dead. She eyed the two conniving council members knowingly. No doubt this would be carried out by the same perpetrator who had killed Tarly. Olenna and Baelish might not have done the deed personally, but they certainly had people who could do that for them.

Brienne shook her head vehemently, “No, we take care of this now. There is no way that Jaime killed Lord Tarly.”

Baelish sighed tiredly and motioned for the guards to stop ‘escorting’ Jaime from the room. As he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Contrary to your beliefs— “

Adamant, Brienne interrupted, “I know Ser Jaime would never— “

Baelish challenged, “Oh, so you can vouch for his time spent? You were with him the entire night?”

Brienne could never lie; she was lousy at it anyway. “No, of course not, but I know his character. He is too honorable— “

Littlefinger pounced, “We cannot go on your word alone, your Grace. Besides, witnesses state that Ser Jaime had threatened Tarly’s life.”

Jaime tried to pull his arms free, but the ex-Kingsguard’s held strong. “Yes, I said that when I was drunk, but I left him in one piece.”

“One piece?” Baelish stated incredulously. “You left him with a broken nose and other various bodily injuries. Who’s to say that you didn’t go back to finish what you started?”

Shaking her head, Brienne stated dogmatically, “Why would he bother to do so? There’s no reason for it.”

“Why?” Baelish huffed out, clearly amused, “Supposedly, Lord Tarly had threatened you. Obviously, Ser Jaime still feels guilty over the last monarch who died under his watch. And being grief-stricken about his family, he has become overly protective of you. So, who’s to say that in a drunken fit he did not want to protect his Queen?”

Jaime could not believe this ass. He wrenched one arm free, “If that were the case, I would have had him thrown in the dungeons, not killed him.” Blount quickly grabbed his arm again.

Baelish shrugged, “Who knows how you would react while drunk. You did attack him earlier after all.”

Jaime cursed this situation, “This is ridiculous. There is no way that I murdered Tarly over what he had done. Hell, if that were the case I would have challenged him to a duel, it is the honorable thing to do.”

Bealish stared at Jaime’s golden hand that rested on the table. “Maybe in your prime you would have done so. Now being unable to win, you struck him down from behind in this most cowardly way.”

It took some doing, but Jaime finally calmed down enough to speak. Still, it was difficult to get the words out through his gritted teeth, “But how could I have gotten to Tarly, he was under guard.”

Baelish was enjoying this far too much, “Simple, later that night, you went back to his apartment under the guise of an apology. Allowed entry, when his back was turned, you struck him down. And to hide their ineptitude, the guards would claim that you were never there.”

Jaime seethed, “That’s ridiculous!” He curtly nodded to the Queensguard and demanded, “Ask the guards that I had at the doors. They will state that I did not come back.”

Olenna piped in, tapping her cane on the floor for emphasis, “Regardless of what they say, how can we trust their word. They are not true royal guards; they have never been knighted nor have they gone through proper training. Being granted this position was a boon, something to brag about to their families. And who’s to say that they would go against the ones who had given them such an honorable station?”

Indignant for her men, Brienne ordered, “Let the guards speak for themselves.” 

Baelish crossed his arms and leaned against the table. He nodded to the new Queensguard stating, “Yes, please do. Then perhaps they could explain how anyone got past them to get into that room.” He nodded to Jaime, “You yourself have reported that there are no secret passages entering any of the guest apartments.” He pointedly looked at Jaime’s golden hand. “And it is impossible for any to climb up the sides of the Keep to enter from the balcony. No, the only way in is through the very doors that they so diligently guarded. So, if not you, then who else would they have allowed in?”

Grinding his molars, Captain Starling motioned the two guards forward to answer. The older one tried to sound confident, but his voice slightly shook as he addressed the Queen, “Your Grace, we heard a crash inside the room, and by the time we entered the Lord’s apartments, Tarly was dead. No one exited past us nor was there anyone else in there with him.” 

The younger man next to him appeared pale and sweaty and nodded quickly in agreement. He then glanced nervously at the Queen and Lord Jaime. 

He was certainly not helping their cause.

Baelish’s grin was predatory, “So, a man died on your watch when there was no way in but from the main doors that you guarded. No doubt you are either covering up for Lord Jaime, or for your own incompetence.” 

Captain Starling protested, “My men are steadfast and true. They would not lie.”

Kettleback barked out, “Well obviously they failed at their job one way or another.”

Baelish pointedly glared at all the newer Queensguards before him, “Yes and since none of you can be trusted to do your job right at guarding just one man, you obviously cannot protect the Queen. You are all dismissed from the Queensguard.” 

Brienne roared, “You cannot do this, only I can— “

Olenna calmly spoke to Brienne as if she was a simple child, “Actually, the council has the final say when it comes to your safety, your Grace.” Understanding the look of shocked indignation from the Queen, Olenna explained, “My dear, if we fear for our sovereign’s well-being, we can overrule you in an emergency. And alas, it seems that sometimes you need to be protected from your heart.”

Baelish nodded quickly, “Yes, and furthermore, I place the old Kingsguard back on duty for your protection.”

The enthused old Kingsguard pushed passed the other guards. They merrily clapped one another on the back while the dejected newer guard sulked to the background.

“But-but, I am Queen— “

Patting Brienne on the arm, Olenna kindly shook her head, “So idealistic. I warned you about this.”

Ignoring Brienne’s indignant sputters, Baelish addressed Captain Starling and the newer guard, “All of you are dismissed from the Queen’s service. Go back to being soldiers; you never made good royal guards anyway.” 

Captain Starling looked to the flabbergasted Brienne, but she was speechless. Starling felt bad for her, she was obviously in over her head, but she was still Queen.

Olenna’s strident voice cut through the tension, “The council has dismissed you, young man. Now leave, or we will have you escorted out.”

Captain Starling refused to go, “I only follow my Queen’s orders.”

Baelish sneered, “Typical. Hence why you make poor Queensguard’s. You do not know when to follow your betters command.” He raised his voice, “Guards, get in here!”

In seconds, his and Olenna’s personal guards burst into the room. Baelish indicated Captain Starling and the other guards, “Escort these men to the Tower Six ramparts where they will do the most good.”

Baelish’s guards were hesitant to leave, “But my Lord, that is far from here—“

Kettleback sneered, “Don’t worry, I can assure you we can handle one man,” he shook Jaime for emphasis. “We’ll make sure he does not hurt the council.” He said it with a mocking inflection that Baelish’s guards did not appreciate.

Olenna nodded her blessings to her own guards to help Baelish’s. Tiredly the lead guard sighed, “As you command.”

Before Brienne could say anything, an angry Starling and his men were forcibly led from the room by the larger group that was comprised of Baelish and Olenna’s guards. 

Once they left, Baelish eyed the fuming Jaime. Nodding to himself, he said, “I’ve been thinking. One could say that how Tarly died was similar to how Kevan Lannister and Maester Pycelle had been murdered. They too had been bludgeoned to death by a heavy object. And you are strong enough to dump the bodies over the ramparts.” Baelish stroked his whiskered chin, “Yes, it seems that your need to protect your Queen against all threats has been your undoing.”

Being accused of not only murder but of killing a family member made Jaime furious. He was so enraged; he began to shake. 

With urgency, Brienne protested, “This is all supposition!” She cursed in the realization that Littlefinger had played them all along. And now he used these murders to get the last rival out of his way. “Besides, Ser Jaime was the one who argued about how they died, why would he continue to say that if he had been guilty of doing such things?”

Baelish shrugged, “It is a perfect way to deflect from the truth.”

“But-but— that’s insane reasoning.” Brienne stammered astonished. 

Outraged, Jaime struggled harder in the guard’s grasp. He growled, “How dare you.” 

“Are we done here?” Baelish’s smug tone grated on Brienne’s nerves. 

Snapping out of her shock, Brienne was about to interject, when Baelish stared at her, challenging her to continue. She honestly did not have anything more to say except to rehash her same arguments that had already been shut down. It seemed that Baelish had manipulated the circumstances perfectly to his advantage.

“Good, then let us proceed.” He turned back to Jaime who fought against the two Kingsguard’s hold. “You will be charged with the murders of Lord Kevan Lannister, Maester Pycelle, and now Lord Randyll Tarly.”

Brienne went to take a step towards Baelish, but Olenna stood in her way. Frustrated, Brienne pleaded, “But I trust Ser Jaime with my life.”

Baelish sneered at her, “Alas, I am afraid we cannot. Take him away to the dungeons.”

Brienne demanded, “But I am your Queen, and you must do as I say.” Her voice began to crack from the feeling of helplessness.

Olenna said to the distraught Queen gently, “Sorry my dear, you are known for trusting unconditionally, much to your detriment. I promise we will find out the truth.”

Brienne spat, “Torture will make one agree to anything.”

The subtle glance passed between Baelish and Olenna resonated with Brienne. Registering the glare of contempt in Baelish’s gaze, Brienne feared Jaime might not even make it to the dungeons alive now. And even if he did arrive safely, she knew that Jaime would not survive for long without her protection. She panicked at the thought of him at their mercies without her there to help him. Ineffectually, her hands clenched the top rail of her chair, twisting it hard enough to make it creak and groan.

Olenna grasped her arm, “You need to calm down, your Grace.”

“He will not make it alive to the dungeons, and you know it.” Brienne hissed to Olenna. She glared at the shrewd older woman, studying her. Doubting the Thorn’s sincerity, Brienne knew Olenna was using this to her advantage, as well. All pleasantries towards Olenna fled as did her patience with this subterfuge. “And you want him out of the way just as much as Baelish does.” 

Gauging the murderous stare aimed her way, Olenna took a hesitant step out of Brienne’s reach, “You are delusional, my dear. I only wanted him sent to Dorne.”

“Delusional am I? You would kill him to make sure your grandson and I would marry.” Gods, what had she done! There was no way Jaime was going to get out of this situation alive now.

“Listen to yourself. I am not your enemy— “

Ignoring Olenna, Brienne turned to Baelish and spat, “If you accuse him with such an erroneous pretext, you might as well do the same to me. I am also strong enough to toss someone over the ramparts. Do you want me to show you?” 

All present warily stared at her, fearful that she might carry out this threat.

Affronted, Olenna stated to Brienne, “Your Grace, this is not how a sovereign should behave. Obviously, you are distraught.” She glanced at the remaining ex-Kingsguards, “Well, make yourselves useful and escort the Queen back to her quarters.” To Brienne, she reassured, “I will have the maester give you something so you can rest. It seems that the combined stress of yesterday and today has affected you greatly.”

Brienne seethed. That’s just what they wanted, Jaime out of the way and her too addled to fight them. 

Cursing, she regretted what her selfishness to get Jaime closer to her had cost them. She had underestimated these councilmember’s greed for power. What a fool she had been to think she could even compete at their level. Why did she even try to play the game against these superior opponents in the first place?

With a determined exhale, she glared at the six ex-Kingsguards who approached her. As she accessed the situation, their steps faltered under her scowling scrutiny. She had tried being who she wasn’t and had stupendously failed. There was only one option left to save her friend. It was time to fall back to what she did best – kick some ass!

She made sure to capture Jaime’s haunted gaze. Her heart squeezed when she registered his desperate look. She lightly nodded to him, and his expression became one of recognition. Sadly smiling back, he shook his head, silently pleading with her not to get any more involved.

But before he could say anything, she acted.

With the cry of, “Run Jaime!” Brienne grabbed her ornate chair and lifted the heavy thing. Ignoring the surprised guards, she hurled the bulky object at Kettleback.

Jaime ducked out of the way in time, and a surprised Kettleback got the chair full in the face. Stunned, he crashed backward into the wall.

“Stop him!” Littlefinger yelled as Jaime fought free from Blount’s grasp.

Turning away from the Queen, the old Kingsguards started to converge on Jaime. Brienne shoved them out of her way as she hurried towards Jaime.

Jaime bobbed just as Blount swung a fist at his face. Before he could throw another, Brienne caught the corpulent man’s arm and pulled him back past her. She went to kick him but got caught up in her skirts.

As she fumbled, Blount laughed, “Serves you right. I’m no food taster; I’m a bloody knight!” 

Enraged, she moved in to grapple with him. Behind her, Brienne heard Olenna beseechingly cry, “Please, your Grace, you need to calm down.” 

Baelish’s yell overrode Olenna’s appeals, “Someone go get the guards!”

While Brienne tussled with Blount, Jaime eyed the Kingsguard racing to the door. Just at the right moment, Jaime shoved the man into the nearby wall, stopping him from escaping to get help.

Brienne risked a look to Jaime, and they shared a grin. She then punched Blount in the face, and he stumbled backward.

Throughout this, Olenna’s words of pleading became a stern rebuke, “Young lady, you will stop this immediately. This is most unfitting for a Queen!” Brienne supposed this was Olenna’s other motherly voice, and she grinned. It never worked in her childhood when her Septa used that tone and it certainly wouldn’t now that she was an adult. 

With her back was to him, Kettleback staggered over and tripped Brienne. As she fell into a pool of her skirts, he drawled, “That’s for the chair.” He angrily wiped the blood away that had dripped into his eyes. 

Sprawled on the floor, Brienne saw four of the Kingsguard tower over her as the other four headed towards Jaime. She heard Jaime yell, “I’m coming Brienne!” And then the sound of fighting as Jaime fought his way towards her.

During this, Olenna continued to yell ineffectual demands between her denunciations regarding Brienne’s conduct of being most unladylike. When that proved unsuccessful, she ordered her son, “Well, go help stop them.”

Ignoring her, Mace instead stayed close to his mother’s side and continued to watch the action. He was no dummy when it came to self-preservation.

Still, on the floor, Brienne struggled to untangle herself from her dress. Even with all the alterations done to them, the damn skirts continued to get in her way. More than anything, she needed to adapt if she was going to get Jaime out of this. The memory of their recent time spent sparing in their secret place came back to her, and she grinned.

Just as the knights reached down to grab her; Brienne rolled under their feet, taking three out with her and her skirts. Abruptly she was halted when Kettleback stomped on the trailing hem of her dress, and all heard the sound of ripping fabric. Peeved, Brienne grabbed the cloth and yanked it out from under his feet, and down he went.

Encumbered with his armor, Kettleback struggled to get back on his feet. While he did so, Brienne crawled upright and waded into the group that attacked Jaime. Punching and hitting, she ended up next to him by the door. Though he had a few cuts and bruises, he was alright, and they grinned at each other. It was just like old times, them vs. the world.

Surveying the regrouping guards, Brienne knew this bunch of nonathletic knights would not be hard to vanquish. Hell, she was looking forward to knocking a few heads together. It was just what she needed to brighten her dour mood.

She and Jaime watched as Kettleback staggered to stand in front of his men bringing the total of eight to deal with. As long as Littlefinger did not succeed in calling additional soldiers, they could win this. Then after that, they could figure out what to do next.

Spying her broken chair by the door, Brienne kicked against the base, breaking off one of the thick legs. Grasping it firmly, she advanced on the group of Kingsguard. Raising it high, she then began to use her makeshift truncheon to bash the insolent guards about the head and shoulders. This reminded her of the first weapon she had become proficient with. She missed the mace she had used at Bitterbridge. Like then, it was very cathartic to beat up the ones who had underestimated her. 

While she took care of the guards coming at them, Jaime had her back, and anytime they approached her blindside, he dealt with it.

“Let me have some fun, wen… your Grace,” Jaime japed good-naturedly.

Brienne quickly glanced over her shoulder at him and grinned back, “’Bout time you showed me some respect… my Lord.”

Those few that did get past her got punched in the face with Jaime’s bejeweled golden fist. The ornate filigree left amazing dents on people’s faces. Soon a few guards sported a bright red backward ‘L’ on their foreheads or cheeks. Jaime certainly enjoyed branding them.

He tried to get more involved, but Brienne’s long reach kept most at bay. At times, Jaime had no choice but to stand out of the way as she swung her heavy club. Those were the times he reveled in her magnificence and could not help but cheer her on. She heard him chant, “Go Brienne, go!” 

Soon all the guards were lying in pain at their feet. Finally staggering upright, the guards sluggishly regrouped. As they began to advance on Jaime and Brienne, each had some sort of injury and most limped from various aches and pains.

Brienne spoke over her shoulder, her gaze never leaving the angry mob that slowly converged on them, “You need to leave, Ser Jaime. Don’t worry, I can handle them without you now.”  
“I won’t leave you!” She had to be kidding or insane.

“Unlike you, they dare not hurt me, and I will keep them busy. Now go before more guards show up!” She ordered. Frankly, she was surprised that the noise had not caused additional soldiers to arrive, but was grateful nonetheless. 

Seeing him still by her side, she pleaded, “Please Jaime, I need you to clear your name, and you cannot do so if you are in the dungeons or worse.” Her voice hitched as the dire thoughts came to her.

Though he did not wish to do go, Jaime understood her reasoning. Olenna and Baelish were obviously pinning this on him for their advantage and he would be at their mercies in the dungeons or worse, the executioner’s ax at dawn. At least free, he could figure things out. Reverently, he proclaimed, “Give them hell, your Grace.” After a longing glance shared between the two of them, Jaime then raced from the room.

Brienne then turned to face the tide of rushing guards.

“He’s getting away!” Baelish yelled, and Brienne sneered at his obviousness.

The guards tried to circumvent her to chase after Jaime. She dropped her truncheon and grabbed the nearest knight by the rim of his breastplate two-handed. Then, with her feet properly braced against the floor, she swung the screaming guard about, knocking him into anyone who dared tried to get past her. 

One managed to get around her, aiming for the door. Registering this, Brienne spun and threw the one she had clenched in her hands at him. The man impacted hard into the retreating guard and both fell, each tangled in the other. Even better, they slid far away from the door. As they lay groaning on the floor, Brienne realized she was beginning to like her odds. 

When two more attacked her, she ducked and grabbed her cudgel from the floor and swung it at them. One dodged to the side and the other danced back just in time. With her weapon extended outwards, this position enabled Blount to sneak in and yank her ‘mace’ away.

Sneering he advanced on her, the derision in his voice palpable, “Now what are you going to do? You are unarmed.”

She nearly laughed at him, but instead, she flicked the hem of her dress across Blount’s face. The thin fabric temporarily blinded him as it skimmed along his eyes. He cried out, covering his eyes in pain. 

Another charged forward to tackle her. Thrusting her skirt out like a cape, she twirled, and the flair of the dress rose, covering the rushing guards head. His vision obscured, she yanked on the fabric diverting his direction. Then her unencumbered foot added to his momentum and he slammed hard into the nearby wall. With a moan, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. 

Panting, Brienne swung about, and a guard grabbed her arm, and tried to hold it tight. But the fabric was satin and too slippery to hang on to. He had no choice but to clench the silken material instead. 

Brienne pulled her arm back, and with a rip, the whole sleeve came free. He stared at the cloth in horror and then glanced up at her with an apologetic look. She smiled sincerely and then grabbed the end of the fabric that was still gripped in his hand. Before he could let go, she wrapped in around his wrist and used it to flip him over her hip. He landed hard on the table, stunned. 

Focusing on the remaining guards, Brienne was pleased that for the majority of the fight, her dress had held up rather well. It seemed that all the alterations done to it had made it more flexible and fluid. It almost felt as if she was fighting only in her undergarments.

During the fight, Brienne had already noted ways to improve the dress as a weapon. She would ask the seamstress to sew some weights into the hem, maybe even add a few sharp blades along the ruffled border. Hell, the dress worked so well; she might make the Queensguard wear them. She smirked at the thought of Jaime clothed in one. She recalled that he did have rather nice legs.

Stepping back, Brienne continued to block the door, daring them to try to get past her. “Well, come on!” She roared at them, and they flinched. Merrily she readied herself to fight this last group. She hadn’t felt this alive in weeks!

“Stand fast men; we can get her. There’s only one of her.” Kettleback vowed, but his remaining men, including Blount, were not so confident now. They glanced behind them at their fallen comrades.

Four of the guards were either unconscious or withering about on the floor in pain. Those still standing groaned and simpered in wondering how this could have happened to them. Brienne figured the last time these Kingsguards had faced anything more challenging than sentry duty was probably far back in their youth.

“Do as you Commander orders!” Baelish shrieked at them, his patience long past its prime. He stood far back from the fray with Olenna and Mace. 

By now, a livid Olenna silently watched the fight. She was so overcome with anger that she had gripped the handle of her cane tightly. Her son Mace stood cowering by her side, nearly swooning with fear. 

Led by Kettleback and resigned to their fate, the last three guards approached Brienne cautiously. They did not appear ready to confront her again. Actually, they seemed rather fearful. With a nod of his head, Kettleback indicated for the corpulent rat, Blount, to attack first. 

Taking a deep breath, the large man suddenly charged her. She sidestepped as if he was a bull and when he stopped directly behind her, she spun to meet his attack.

Blount’s meaty paw reached out to grab Brienne’s bare arm. Unexpectedly, she wrapped her skirts around his hand. Shocked at her effrontery, he was even more surprised when she yanked him towards her, and her forehead cracked into his thick skull. Down he crumpled. While on all fours, a groaning Blount tried to get to his feet, but Brienne’s skirted knee came up and slammed into his chin. Now he was out.

Before she could turn around to face the last three, she was grabbed from behind in a bear hug. Kettleback grunted as he squeezed her tight, no doubt believing that preventing her from breathing was the only way to knock her out without resorting to weapons. He did not take into consideration the already stiff and snug corset that she wore. Realizing that he could not crush any more breath from her, he ordered the last two guards, “Grab her legs, and wrap her skirts around them.”

It unfortunately, was a solid plan and all Brienne could do was struggle and try to kick the men who were reaching for her legs. Sidestepping a vicious kick from her, they were able to grab her feet and twist her skirts around her flailing limbs. Still, Brienne writhed and was strong enough to buck them backward and they staggered from her fierce struggle.

For once the Seven smiled down at Brienne, and her violent actions had the backpedaling Kettleback suddenly tripping over one of the unconscious guards.

When Brienne felt the lumbering Kettleback topple, she aimed her sharp elbows to slam into his lower bits in hopes of making him a gelding. He must have realized her intent, for he twisted just in time. Instead, Brienne only grazed his protected kidney area. But being a trained fighter, she always had a backup plan. It was time to rely on her thick skull once more, and she smashed it back. Landing aided in her force and she was pleased to hear the unmistakable crunching sound of breaking bone as she connected hard against his hooked nose. 

Roaring in pain, Kettleback instantly lets go of her arms. Not only did it hurt, but such an injury made one’s eyes water most proficiently.

Her luck continued to hold, for when she had landed, one of the guards holding her feet had to let go. This just left the other one who still held on for dear life. Sitting up at the waist, Brienne glared at the impudent young guard.

As Kettleback withered under her in pain, the guard holding her legs cautiously stared up at her, worried as to what would happen next. Not to disappoint, Brienne punched him right in the nose. He instantly let go and held his gushing nose, honking in pain.

She was relieved to see that the last guard was on his back, staring up at the ceiling commiserating his existence for joining the Kingsguard in the first place. Resigned, he stared at her. Determined to do his duty, he slowly began to get up.

Brienne rolled off Kettleback, the whole time making sure to keep her skirts fanning out from her legs so not to be trapped in them. She then gathered the loose clothing and shot to her feet.

By now, Jaime had gotten away, but she was having too much fun to stop. Besides, she needed to make sure that Jaime was long gone. 

The last guard – who had a red backward ‘L’ on his forehead – staggered to his feet.

Gleeful that he still wanted to play, Brienne grabbed the man in a headlock and squeezed. 

Above his pleas to be released, Brienne heard Kettleback groan and thrash about on the floor as he tried to get up. Brienne pulled along the one in her grasp, and she stood over Kettleback.

Before the large man could rise to his feet, Brienne rested her shoe on his neck. Any time he tried to stand, she just applied more pressure. He mewed in protest.

“Who else wants some?” She challenged all comers. 

Olenna beseeched her, “Please your Grace; you must stop this at once.”

Like a siren call, the plaintive older woman’s voice finally broke through Brienne’s warrior’s lust, and she frowned at the octogenarian.

With her attention diverted, Brienne did not hear the telltale whoosh of air in time. Before she could swing about, something hard slammed into the back of her head.

Dazed, Brienne fell to the floor, semi-conscious. Mace stood over her and raised Jaime’s golden hand, ready to use again if needed. Bright red blood dripped from it.

Olenna gasped in fury, “Mace that was most uncalled for.”

Sheepish, her son shrugged, “Sorry mother, I didn’t know how else to stop her.” 

“Much obliged, my Lord,” Kettleback struggled to his feet and nodded his thanks to Mace. Then he and the bruised Blount each took an arm and helped the groggy Brienne to her feet. Two more Kingsguard’s rose and staggered out the door in pursuit of Jaime.

As Brienne was hauled over to the council members, the guards stumbled back into the room, “Sorry my Lord’s and Lady, but Ser Jaime is nowhere to be found.”

“Well, send more guards to find him!” Baelish snapped.

Brienne smiled dreamily when she heard that Jaime had gotten away. Feeling a trickle of blood flow down her neck from her head wound, she tried to touch it, but Kettleback and Blount would not release her. She tried to focus on what was going on but was too woozy. She swooned when a bout of dizziness washed over her. 

Angry, Baelish said, “It seems that the Queen has been overcome.”

“Perhaps I should look at her?” The cowering maester came out of the shadows.

“Yes, once she is back in her chambers. Take her away.”

Olenna addressed the healer, “And perhaps you can give her something to help keep her calm. The poor dear is hysterical.”

“Ah, excellent idea, my Lady.” Baelish nodded pleased and addressed Kettleback, “And put some men inside her room. She is not to leave nor have any guests unless the council gives their permission. And double the guard in finding Ser Jaime. I doubt he will go far from her.”

Kettleback nodded at Brienne and leered, “It would be my pleasure to make sure this one stays under wraps.”

Brienne frowned and attempted to pull away, but the blow to her head had weakened her. They half dragged, half carried her from the room. Four of the injured reinstated Queensguard’s staggered close to the small group that escorted the dazed Queen. 

The maester wrung his hands in concern but followed behind them. 

Pleased with how the events had unfolded, the council members grinned, ecstatic that they had gotten exactly what they wanted. With the proud Mace trailing after them, they headed for the door.

As they exited the room, they discussed what was best for Brienne. Olenna almost sounded sad when she said, “I am afraid with the Queen out of sorts, it falls upon us to do what is best for the land.”

Baelish nearly laughed at their good fortune. “Oh yes, I do believe that we must persevere while she is indisposed. Maybe once she marries your grandson, she will realize that we only want what is best for her.”

Smiling wanly, they dramatically sighed and walked down the corridor. All around them, soldiers and guards searched throughout the corridors like crazed beasts, hunting for the one-handed Lord.

*

Hearing Baelish’s and Olenna’s optimistic voices approaching, Jaime ducked back into the shadows. The moment he had escaped from the council chambers, he had sought out the nearest secret passage and had hidden in it. It bothered him to run away, especially when he was supposed to protect his Queen. 

When he saw the semi-conscious Brienne being dragged away, he nearly charged forward, but there were too many guards to try to free her. Nearby, patrols were already being organized to track him down, and he did not have much time until they would be upon his current hiding place.

After noticing the blood dripping from the back of Brienne’s head, he vowed that Kettleback and the others would pay for hurting her.

Jaime bit his lip, thinking about what had just transpired. Each councilmember gained something with his arrest. The conspiracy was too deep to face alone, and he knew he would need some help. He ducked back into the secret passage and headed towards the lower chambers. There was one ally he knew he could get to without detection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your continued support!
> 
> And I am hesitant to admit this, but the fight scene is an homage to one of my favorite 80's cheesy movies of all times. Any guesses?
> 
> Click if you dare ;-)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjFCVTpsIps


	16. Chapter 16

Ducking back into the shadows, Jaime waited until the sound of marching boot heels had rounded the corner and faded away. He had lost track of the number of times the large groups of soldiers had passed his hiding spot. Exhaling, he stared at the closed door across from him, urging for it to open. He had been waiting there for what seemed like hours.

At least with the time spent, he had noted that a patrol passed every fifteen minutes. It seemed that they were not taking any chances with Jaime still on the loose. They were even patrolling the secret passages methodically, making him wary of any time he spent within them.

Tiredly he sighed. Waiting also made him dwell on his failure to protect the Queen. He prayed that Brienne was alright. It took all his will power to stop himself from confronting all head on to free her. Instead, he thought of other things.

Such as figuring out why Littlefinger had Tarly killed. His first thought had been that the Lord of Horn Hill had been murdered so to cast the blame on Jaime, thus getting him out of the way for Baelish to take his position as Hand. 

But the timing just did not add up. How would Baelish have known that Brienne was making Jaime her Hand? Unless the scratching he heard behind the panel last night had been one of Littlefinger’s little birds spying on them after all. That must have been what happened. He swore that once all this was over, he was going to tear the Queens chambers apart looking for that hidden passage. That was if they ever got out of this mess, he thought frustrated.

Impatient he once more glared at the closed door across from him and willed something to happen.

Finally, he saw the flicker of candlelight approach from under the gap of the closed door.

As the door swung opened, Jaime heard the chorus of goodbyes as all the workers left for home.

The last to leave, Beatrice the royal seamstress, stretched her back and then headed towards her room deeper into the Keep. Jaime had made sure to hide in the direction that she had to go to reach her chambers.

Though it would have been more strategic had he gone to Bronn for help, the ex-Sellsword was being watched constantly. Littlefinger wasn’t taking any chances in case Jaime tried recruiting his few supporters for aid. Besides, Jaime was never too sure where his friend’s allegiances lay, especially when big rewards were involved.

Thankfully, nobody ever thought about taking the staff into consideration. Why would anyone of Jaime’s station even deem to talk to the lowly servants?

This snobbery towards the help always worked to Jaime’s favor. Over the years he had made it a habit to know the staff well. It all stemmed from the times that he and Cersei had met in secret. No matter how indiscrete they tried to be, there was always a chance that they would be discovered by the servants. The few times that occurred, Jaime made sure that coin kept tongues from wagging. He and his sister even sometimes used them to assist in their dalliances.

When Beatrice slowly walked past him while deep in thought, Jaime made his move and left the shadows.

Startled when she felt a presence behind her, she nearly squeaked when something cold suddenly covered her mouth. But then registering that it was a metal hand against her lips, she relaxed.

As she slackened in his hold, Jaime released her and pulled her into the nearby darkened alcove. “Sorry to frighten you, Beatrice.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, my Lord. You shouldn’t sneak up on me, what with all these murders going on.” She noticed his flinch, and added, “Ser Jaime, you should not be here. The entire castle is looking for you.”  
“I hope not the entire castle,” He said slyly, turning his charm to maximum. 

The older woman admonished, “Of course not, I know what they are saying about you is a lie.” 

Nodding in relief, Jaime asked, “I need your help. I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I did not realize that you worked so late.”

“I normally don’t. But all these murders have half the nobility fleeing back to their realms. Gods forbid they have a ripped seam or missing button when they go.” Though the fine wrinkles around her eyes accentuated her exhaustion, the fire within her gaze blazed with indignation. She was a seamstress to the Queen, not these rubes. But her orders came directly from the council that she was to help, and she dared not go against them.

Jaime smirked at the thought of the quaking aristocracy. Yes, there was nothing like the threat of murder to make the gentry scurry away like the craven they were. He grinned at how they must all be panicking with him still roaming the corridors. He couldn’t help but inquire, “And the other half that stayed?”

Beatrice shook her head in amazement, “Willing to risk death to try to get in the Queen’s good graces.” 

And Jaime was sure that for those Houses who stayed, they were most grateful for the added security.

Before he could say anything, Beatrice glanced down the corridor, “But we best hurry this along, my Lord. There’s a curfew until you are caught.”

Jaime snorted. With this coup going on, he had a feeling that even after he was caught it would stay in effect. But she had a good point, and they best make this quick. “Tell me, any word on the Queen? I am worried about her.”

“As we all are, my Lord. But no, no one has been told anything more about her health. Just that she is under extreme strain and is on ordered bed rest. The staff knows that something bigger is going on, but that is all.”

Jaime nodded, not surprised that Brienne’s actions to help him get away were being kept under wraps. “I need you to get word to the Queen.”

Beatrice tried to cover her worry with outrage, “I can’t. I’ve already tried. They won’t let anyone near her chambers. And the kitchen staff is in a frenzy. They have tried to get food to her, but that awful food taster keeps sending it all back stating that the Queen is still sleeping.”

Reeling, Jaime gaped, “Still asleep? It has been nearly a full day—“He was now even more worried about that hit to Brienne’s head. Who knows how badly she had been affected. He cursed at leaving her alone to fend for herself. He should have stayed; his freedom be damned.

Beatrice’s troubled voice cut through his self-castigation, “What are we to do, my Lord? I am worried about her Grace. She has no one to look out for her. And Littlefinger and the Tyrell’s are so dangerous.”

“I will look after her.” They heard the approach of marching boots and Jaime pulled Beatrice deeper into the shadows with him until the guards passed. The constant patrols were exhausting for him.

Desperate to save Brienne, he accepted that he would just have to risk getting Bronn involved after all. The problem was, once again he did not know where his friend’s loyalties aligned. There was always the chance that Bronn might sell him out for that damn castle he wanted. But there was little choice now.

Once the patrol passed, Jaime whispered, “I need you to talk to a friend of mine. Tell Ser Bronn of Blackwater that I will meet with him at our spot by midnight.”

Beatrice looked at him askew. Jaime quickly added, “Don’t worry, he will know what you mean. And please be wary, he is constantly being watched.”

She nodded and scurried away.

Jaime watched her turn the corner, and he slumped against the smooth rock wall. He hoped he had not made a mistake with getting Bronn involved. He had thought that these past few days had strengthened their friendship, but he knew Bronn was an opportunist at heart and turning Jaime in could land him quite the boon.

Exhaling tiredly, Jaime kept to the shadows until he could reach the closest secret passage.

*

Later that evening in the Queen’s chambers, Baelish, Olenna, the Maester, Ser Blount and Ser Kettleback, all studied the large slumbering woman in the regal bed. If she hadn’t looked so deathly pale, the oversized bandage wrapped around her head would almost appear comical.

They had been standing there for a few minutes trying to roust the Queen, but nothing seemed to be working. “Try shaking her more,” Littlefinger suggested in frustration. 

As the two new Queensguards did as Baelish ordered, Olenna rounded on the Maester.

“You gave her too much sleeping-draught,” Olenna chided the healer.

Shrinking under her harsh glare, the put-upon healer shrugged sheepishly. 

“Some help you are,” the Thorn spat. 

Exasperated, a desperate Baelish told the guards, “Maybe try walking her around.”

Grunting, Kettleback and Brount pulled Brienne from the bed and dragged her about the room. That still did not rouse the sleeping Queen.

“Here, I’ve done this to Mace before. Stick her head over that bowl.” Olenna pointed to the basin on the nightstand.

As the guards did so, Olenna poured water over Brienne’s head, soaking the bandage and the woman underneath it.

Sputtering, Brienne slowly shook her head, trying to displace the water that had gotten into her mouth and eyes. Her quiet outrage was ignored as she tried to get her bearings.

Triumphant, the guards plopped Brienne in the chair by her desk. The Queen blurrily stared ahead, the whole time looking as if she was going to pass out again. The Maester quickly changed out her wet bandage for a dry one, and then studied Brienne’s eyes. Frowning, he then shrugged to the impatient Olenna and Bealish.

Not knowing how much time they had, the two conniving council members began to speak over one another. 

“Your Grace, I need—“

“My dear, I must—“

Sighing in annoyance, Littlefinger motioned for Olenna to be quick about it.

She flashed a glare at him, but said to Brienne calmly, “The citizens are concerned that you are unwell, your Grace, and wish you a speedy recovery.”

As if drunk, Brienne tried to focus on the older woman, but her eyes kept crossing.

Quickly, Olenna informed Brienne, “My dear, I wanted to let you know that your wedding to my grandson will be in a few days. Meanwhile, Lord Baelish will be your Hand.”

Casting a dark look at Olenna, Baelish clarified, “I assure you it is only temporary, your Grace. In the meantime, we need you to sign some important papers.” One of them was for declaring him permanently the Hand, while the other was a marriage contract to Loras.

Baelish tried placing the quill in Brienne’s hand, but her slack grip wouldn’t stay closed around the writing implement.

Finally, with Blount’s help, they forced her hand firmly closed, clasping it tightly around the feather’s calamus. Baelish went to roughly sign her name, but before he could push her hand along the bottom of the document, a befuddled Brienne drooled onto the parchment and his hand.

Baelish jumped back, shaking his hand clean. Outraged he bellowed the obvious, “Good lord, she is drooling!”

Disgusted, Olenna castigated the Maester “You old fool, why can’t you do your job right for once!” 

The Maester tried to explain, “My apologies, but it is difficult to gauge the right dosage amount for one her size. Obviously, the less sedate lifestyle has affected her metabolism.” 

Olenna and Baelish just stared at him nonplused. 

He pursed his lips and shrugged, “The drug is lasting longer than I thought it would.”

“You think.” Olenna snarled. She then raised her voice to match her angry glare, the threat clear, “The next time, don’t give her so much. At this rate, she won’t be able to stand at her own wedding!”

The Maester stuttered, “There is a good chance that the blow to her head was more severe than we first thought.” He hoped he could spread the blame to another, but the scowling council members were having none of it.   
Baelish growled, “Just be careful next time.”

The Thorn leaned over the Queen and gently shook her by the shoulder. She grimaced when more drool leaked from the Brienne’s mouth and onto the silken sleeve of Olenna’s favorite blue dress. 

Shaking her head in frustration, Olenna pulled back and sighed, “She is no good to us now.” She nodded to Baelish, “With the Queen like this, someone should stay and keep an eye on her.” 

“I can check on her from time to time, but otherwise I am engaged.” The Maester said quickly.

Olenna smirked and then studied the two guards, distrustful of them as well. Kettleback and Blount were carefully touching their swelling and bruising facial injuries, the whole time glaring daggers at the drugged Queen. With little choice in the matter, Littlefinger and the Thorn turned to one another. 

Each smiled pleasantly, expecting the other to volunteer. Their shared look became one of silent aggravation.

Exasperated, Olenna said, “Well, one of us should be with her until she is more alert.”

Baelish stroked his beard in contemplation, “Yes, at least until she can sign these documents.”

“Well, don’t look at me; I have a wedding to plan,” Olenna stated indignantly.

Frowning Baelish snapped, “And I have things to do for the realm.”

Olenna stared at the confused Brienne, then narrowed her eyes at Baelish, “Didn’t she have some dim-witted squire that was always attached to her hip?” 

Frowning in thought, Littlefinger nodded, “Yes, that’s Podrick Payne. I saw him lurking about outside the chambers.”

A shrewd Olenna asked, “Can we trust him?” 

Baelish shrugged, “The guards will never leave this room, so he dares not try anything with them present.”

They grimaced when Brienne started drooling again. Olenna snapped, “Good, then let him take care of her.” 

Baelish nodded curtly in agreement. He went to the door and opened it. Poking his head out, he signaled the distraught Podrick over and ushered him into the Queen’s chambers.

An apprehensive Podrick glanced around his surroundings in concern and flinched when he saw the two injured Queensguards glowering down at him.

Snapping his fingers at the squire to get his attention, Baelish ordered, “Boy, look after your mistress.” His ringed finger pointed towards the ornate table by the royal bed.

Podrick took one look at the Queen and blanched. She appeared paler than usual and had a large bandage wrapped around her head. Concerned, he rushed to her side and carefully shook her. Brienne slowly turned and stared at her friend, still unable to comprehend what was going on. Softly, he addressed her, “You should not be out of bed, your Grace. You are unwell.” 

Looking over at the guards for help, they sneered back at him in response.

Podrick had no choice but to help Brienne stand by himself. Once he was finally able to get her on her feet, they then staggered over to the large bed. He maneuvered her to sit on the edge while he pulled the covers back. The whole time, Baelish watched him closely. Podrick tried not to shudder at the predatory gaze focused on him.

Olenna nodded pleased, “Good job, lad. Now look after the Queen and let us know when she is awake. We need her to sign some very important royal documents.”

Baelish was less pleasant and ordered, “Yes, and don’t try any tricks. The guards will be in the room watching you the whole time.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Podrick dutifully said. While he was tucking the Queen into bed, the council members stared at him, watching his every move.

As Podrick leaned over to arrange the blankets under her chin, Brienne whispered sluggishly in his ear, “I’m not as drugged as they think I am, Pod. It was the only option I could think to do at the last moment.” Though her voice still slurred, her partial awareness nearly made Podrick hoot for joy. 

Originally, he had thought that the injury to her head had caused her dazed reactions, but now it seemed that they had drugged her instead! For the council to do this to the Queen was very troubling. That they even had the audacity to this to her without the fear of reprisals, scared him. This meant that they were willing to do anything to get what they wanted. Podrick wished he understood why all this was happening, everything seemed to be going fine yesterday.

Frankly, this whole day had been madness. After staying up the entire night to watch over his inebriated Queen, Brienne had awakened and then dismissed him with the order to get some rest. Later he was roused by the horrific news that she had retired to her room on medical leave and was not to be disturbed. The fact that they would not let him see her caused him to fear the worse. 

Especially after hearing that Ser Jaime had been accused and then hunted for the murder of the nobility. The Queen would have never accepted this, and he feared the consequences. For hours Pod had waited outside the Queen’s chambers, hoping to get word on Brienne’s condition. Upon finally being granted admittance, he had never seen her so weak and out of it. With her head tightly bandaged he had assumed the worse. He was ashamed to admit that he had faltered, unsure how he could ever help his mistress. Now it heartened him to see her playing the game, and rather well. 

So impressed with her cleverness, he decided to play it up. After winking to Brienne, he turned and accused the councilmember’s, “She’s been drugged! How dare you do this to the Queen. This is treasonous!”

The Maester was the only one that appeared contrite. 

Olenna tried to explain, “No lad, she was not well and needed her rest—“

Seeing Podrick’s accusation as insolence, an indignant Baelish snapped, “It is none of your concern, boy.” 

Ser Kettleback saw a means to settle a score for the injuries that the Queen had given him on someone she cared for. Happily deciding to teach Podrick a lesson about his place, he went to cuff the lad. Raising his open palm to strike, he sneered, “I see your mistress never taught you any manners. Learn your place, boy.”

Olenna though knew that honey worked better than beatings and stilled Kettleback’s hand with her cane. She assured Podrick, “Do not worry, young Podrick, it is only for the time being until she is feeling better. And the Maester knows not to give her such a strong dose next time.”

Podrick barely stopped his hiss of, ‘Next time!’ He was thankful that at least Brienne had manipulated the situation to lessen the dosage. Alas, she’d still be messed up, but at least she’d be able to function.   
Baelish ordered, “Just make sure to have a page get us when she awakens.” 

With one last look aimed at ‘dozing’ Queen, Olenna, Baelish, and the Maester headed towards the exit.

The two council members talked quietly to each other and Podrick overheard Olenna say, “She needs to make an appearance soon. The few remaining nobles are asking about her.”

“Too bad there isn’t another murder to get them all to leave us alone in peace,” Baelish spat.

The door firmly shut behind them before Podrick could make out Olenna’s snide response. 

He felt Brienne lightly touch his hand, and Podrick brushed across the covers to smooth them out. This enabled him to lean over without bringing undo notice to himself.

Brienne whispered, “Any word on Ser Jaime?”

Exhaling, Podrick answered, “No, your Grace. They think he is still hiding in the secret passages to elude capture.”

She shared a far-off smile with him. Then she sobered up as best she could, “Good, now you must get word to him.”

Podrick frowned, unsure how and then he grinned when an idea formed, “I can try through Bronn.”

“Good, good thinking.” She gently patted his chest, “Have him, have him tell Jaime that we should meet somewhere safe. Pycelle’s office, I think. They would never think to look for me there, and I know where it is. And Jaime can use the secret passage to get in undetected.” Though her mental processes were slowed down, she had enough fortitude to at least think ahead somewhat. 

Meeting in Pycelle’s office was the only safe place she could think of that would not be guarded or patrolled so she and Jaime could safely compare notes. They had to find proof that it was Littlefinger who had murdered the others, or all was lost especially her and Jaime’s freedom. She would even stoop to something they could blackmail Baelish with. Though half drugged, she knew there was no way in hell she was going to marry Loras, nor allow Littlefinger to become the Hand. 

“Yes, my Lady, I will tell him. Meanwhile, you need to sleep off the rest of this drug.”

She grunted in agreement. In seeking comfort, her eyes darted to the side, searching for Oathkeeper, but it was not at its usual spot hanging from her bedpost. 

Podrick saw where her panicked gaze rested and signed sadly. “They thought it was inappropriate for the Queen to have a weapon and have sent it to the armory.”

She chastised angrily, “I don’t care how, but bring me back my sword, and this time keep it well hidden.” 

He looked down quickly in embarrassment. As her squire, it was his job to guard her weaponry.

Sighing, Brienne knew it wasn’t Pod’s fault. This whole damn usurper situation was making her nervous and pissed. Brienne lightly patted his hand, and he smiled in relief.

“I promise that I will get it back for you.” He solemnly pledged, and her crooked smile reflected her gratitude. Damn, it was just so difficult to concentrate now. Maybe resting her eyes was just what she needed for a clearer head.

As her eyelids fluttered closed, she hoped Podrick could get out of her room without getting clobbered by the aggravated guards.

When Brienne finally drifted off to sleep, Podrick leaned back on his haunches in contemplation. He was positive that once he had spoken to Bronn, they could figure a way to contact Ser Jaime. Alas, first he had to solve how to get past the two burly men who guarded the exit. It was one thing to promise the nearly impossible; it was another to succeed at it. And then there was the issue of getting Brienne out of the room to meet with Ser Jaime. Well, one problem at a time.

As he mulled his options, he heard Bronn’s voice drone on in his head. Smirking, Pod recalled some of the lessons that Bronn had tried to instill in him to survive court life. This seemed like the perfect time to combine with what Lord Tyrion had taught him a while ago about the same subject.

Between their drunken gatherings, Podrick remembered one of their instructions, observe one’s surroundings. Taking Brienne’s bandaged head in consideration, he then cast a wary eye on the injured guards. When he spotted where the brunt of the damage had been done to them, he easily connected the dots.

Further surreptitiously studying the two guards, Podrick nodded to himself as a plan formed. Frankly, they were barely able to stand, and obviously in pain from their wounds. Kettleback had a broken nose and nasty cut above his eye. He was sniffing constantly, and Podrick recognized it as residual pain from having one’s nose bashed in. 

He also saw that Blount’s two eyes were already blackening and swelling shut. Both appeared miserable, and Podrick was surprised they were still on duty.

The young squire did reckon that they were proud, which was probably the only thing keeping them upright. He hid his grin thinking that his mistress had done well in venting her recent frustrations. No doubt her actions precipitated in allowing Ser Jaime to escape their clutches. 

Upon further scrutiny, Podrick remembered that Bronn had also taught him to use what was available to his advantage.

After making sure that his Queen was sound asleep, he cautiously approached the two suffering guards. Kettleback eyed him angrily, appearing ready to strike him down. 

Trying to make himself as tiny as possible, Podrick shrank in on himself. Tyrion had always enthused the caveat of becoming nonthreatening by making one as small a target as possible. Timidly he asked, “Excuse me Sers?”   
As Podrick shuffled closer, he wished he had a prop that he could clench in his hands ineffectually. Regardless, his act seemed to work, because Kettleback frowned and miserably motioned Podrick forward.

In too much pain to do much else, Brount grumbled wretchedly to Pod, “What do you want, boy?” 

“Sorry, Ser’s. It is just that I remembered a poultice that my long-dead mum swore by that could help the Queen’s wounded head. With it, I could have her up in no time. It is not that difficult to make; I just need to grab the ingredients from my room and make up a quick batch.” 

Podrick heard Bronn’s voice state, ‘Of course, no one cares unless it was beneficial to them as well.’ Nodding to the guards, he added, “I assume that the faster she awakens, the sooner you two can have your own wounds treated.”

But again, they were proud. Tyrion was right when he said, the bigger the bully, the bigger the ego.

“We are fine,” Kettleback grumbled irritated. “Go back to tending your mistress.”

Alas, sometimes stubbornness was involved as well, but Pod was used to dealing with obstinate people. Just a little tweaking and he knew he could get this to work. “I assure you that it is good for all swelling and pain. Why my mum would use it on my brothers whenever they came home from a fight.” 

Though sometimes if one pushed too hard, they got the opposite reaction—

“I said—“ a frustrated Kettleback raised his fist to shut Podrick up. Used to large people swatting at him, Podrick forced himself not to automatically jump back but instead cringed before the tall man.

“Now hold up, Ser Kettleback,” said Blount. “Maybe the lad could make enough for us as well.”

Phew. A relieved Podrick gushed, “Of course, Ser. I would gladly help you if you could see fit to allow me to leave this room.” He cast a quick look to his slumbering Queen, “Only temporarily though, I promise.”

Having momentarily forgotten his injuries, Kettleback inhaled from his nose and nearly cried out in pain. Instead, he whined, “Alright. Just be quick about it, boy.”

After bowing humbly, Podrick rushed from the room and scurried quickly to Bronn’s chambers.

*

Right at midnight, Jaime met with Bronn on the stone terraced platform where they used to spar. The full moon helped illuminate the surroundings, making the usual vibrant flowers a dull grey. Everything around him was now a stark black or white and all gradients in between.

Tiredly sighing, Jaime felt melancholy overwhelm him, for he liked to think that this place had become his and Brienne’s secret spot. Alas, the once beautiful and perfect area to practice was meaningless without her there to share it with him.

This was especially apparent since he felt wary about his current standings with Bronn.

Before Jaime could begin, Bronn tucked his thumbs into his belt. Sighing, Jaime waited for the bragging to begin. He did not have long to wait.

Merrily, Bronn boasted, “You think they didn’t offer me a lot of coins to turn you in? That cunt Littlefinger even visited me. Claimed he would give me my heart’s desire should I turn you in alive.” His cold eyes ratcheted up and down Jaime’s body, “Said I’d only get half the amount though if I killed you.” He glanced over the side of the balcony and spat. 

Jaime steeled himself. That had been what he was afraid of. Littlefinger could be most persuasive, and Bronn really did want that castle.

Jaime stared Bronn right in the eyes, “You help me save the Queen, and you will gain far more than whatever Littlefinger could promise you. She can even make you the Hand if you wanted.”

Bronn recoiled horrified, “What? And actually have to work for a living. No after this, I want a large castle, a large bag of gold and a pretty high-born wife.”

Tired of the games, Jaime nodded. “Now since I don’t see you calling the guards, I take it that we have an agreement?”

Magnanimous, Bronn indicated with a sweep of his hand for Jaime to continue.

Reining in his temper, Jaime exhaled, “I need you to have Pod relay a message to the Queen. Tell her Grace that—“

Smug, Bronn rocked back and forth on his heels. “I can do one better than that. After I had gotten word that you wanted to meet, young Podrick came to me with a message from the Queen. She wants to meet you at that dead Maester’s office.”

Elated, yet surprised, Jaime inquired, “Pycelle’s?”

“Yeah, that’s him. She thought it was the safest place for you since you can use the secret passages to get inside.”

Jaime nodded. It was a wise suggestion, and he grinned in appreciation of her thinking of him. Alas, she would not know that Littlefinger would have them patrolled by soldiers. He then frowned in irritation, and Jaime admonished, “And you did not think to tell me this news right away?” 

Bronn snorted, “What, and have you gallantly dash off before we could come to terms.”

Jaime grinned. Surprisingly, he was grateful that Bronn would never change.

“Yeah, so meet her there in two hours. We figured that should be enough time to get her away from her guards.” 

Quietly, Jaime asked, “How is she?”

“According to Pod, she was groggy, but aware enough. It seems that the council is drugging her.”

Jaime cursed. Desperate for more information on Brienne, Jaime practically begged, “Tell me everything Podrick told you.”

Bronn crossed his arms, and when he heard Jaime whimper, he grinned. “Alright, alright. Here’s what he told me.”

Bronn then proceeded to repeat what the agitated Podrick had told him. As Jaime raptly listened, Bronn stated matter-of-factly that he practically had to get the lad drunk to calm him down. He seemed to be under some sort of deadline to make a fake poultice for the Queen. Bronn stayed out of the flustered lad’s way as he dashed about Bronn’s quarters looking for ingredients.

While Podrick spoke of how the Queen was and the need of a plan to contact Jaime and then free her, he dashed about the chamber, mixing anything he could find of use, which wasn’t much. Without recourse, most of it was made from the numerous discarded wine bottles that had been strewn throughout the room. Nearly all had been empty, but a few had some rank droplets left inside for his needs, but it was just not enough. 

When a frantic Podrick made a beeline for the half-full decanter on the table, Bronn barely grabbed it in time. 

Bronn watched amused when the young squire wailed out desperately, “This isn’t going to work; I need something else, something solid. Don’t you have any food scraps leftover in here?”

Bronn grunted his negative answer which seemed to freak out Podrick even more. Then he spied some caked on gummy substance on the bottom of Bronn’s boot. With shaking hands, Podrick scrapped it free and added it to the weird concoction. 

The alcoholic stink from the mixture made Bronn wrinkle his nose, “You gonna use that stuff on the Queen? You’re braver than I thought. She’ll kill you.”

Podrick grumbled that was the least of his worries. He then stared at Bronn, who finally relented to the anxious teen, “Alright, I can get word to Ser Jaime for you. And I think I know how to get your Queen free.” 

Pleased with himself, Bronn stated to Jaime, “And with that reassurance, the lad seemed to decompress… or maybe the wine finally kicked in.”

Jaime motioned him to continue, “And this plan of yours?”

The enigmatic Bronn teased, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just be at that Maester’s office in two hours.”

Frowning, Jaime was not amused, “And you are sure this magical plan of yours to free Brienne will work?”

Bronn looked affronted at being doubted, “According to Podrick, the Queen has picked up some acting skills. Between that and my coaching the lad, we will get her away.”

“Brienne will need a disguise to get through the castle undetected. That could be a problem; she is very tall.”

“Already thought of that. That seamstress friend of yours will help there.” Jaime heard the irritation in Bronn’s voice. He surmised Bronn felt a bit put out that Jaime went to Beatrice first. 

“Thanks, Bronn,” Jaime’s tone was heartfelt, and Bronn made a face. 

He must have heard the maudlin tone in Jaime’s voice and waved him off, “Oh, don’t get sentimental.”

But Jaime could not help it. He was worried about his Queen. The people so readily accepted that their Sovereign was resting and not under house arrest. Also, there was always a chance that a murderer was still out there, making her all the more at risk. His pledge to keep her safe was getting harder and harder. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ Jaime stopped, unsure if he should admit his fears to his friend.

But easily reading Jaime’s concerns, Bronn crowed, “And you still won’t admit your true feelings for each other.”

Frustrated, Jaime snapped, “We have already gone over this Bronn. Why do you continue to needle me about this? Do you want another damn castle? Is that it?”

“No, no,” Bronn raised his hands in mock surrender, “Never be said that I got in the way of your friendship.” 

Jaime did not care for the leer that accompanied the last word. He corrected, “She is just so vulnerable now—“

Bronn nodded and reassured him, “Alright, alright, don’t worry. I will make sure she stays safe. Hell, I will even discretely follow her to that Maester’s office to make sure she stays out of trouble.” 

“And you’ll watch out for any little birds that might be following you.”

Indignant, Bronn sneered, “I got here undetected.”

Relieved, Jaime felt that he could finally relax. “Thanks, Bronn.” 

Of course, Bronn had to ask, “Now what is this about a second castle?”


	17. Chapter 17

Late in the night, ominous storm clouds began to roll in, and a foreboding shroud of darkness crept across the land, dousing any bright moonlight in its wake. The chilled wind strengthened in its intensity and even those safe in the formidable Red Keep felt it. Cold drafts of air coursed down the corridors and all in its path, shivered. But it was not just the cold that seeped throughout that caused this reaction; there was also underlying fear. 

A murderer was still on the loose. And it certainly did not allay any fears that the new Queen continued to be sequestered with no other reason given except for being overly tired. 

This lie perpetuated by the council was only partially true. For within her chambers, the drugged Queen moaned and trembled while she tossed and turned in her forced slumber.

It was another anxiety riddled dream, but unlike those other nightmares, Brienne could not wake from it. In this one, she had fallen through the icy river that raged near Winterfell and was dragged deep under the frozen waters. Helpless, she struggled to swim to the surface, but the waterlogged furs that kept her warm during the day had become a hindrance. Her lungs ached, and she knew she was drowning.

Suddenly, a terrible stench broke through her panic, and a startled Brienne awoke. Groggily staring about the darkened room, she flinched when a bright lamp was thrust in her face. She tried to shove it away, but her arms were trapped under the heavy blankets. She relaxed when she saw Podrick smiling down at her. 

Behind him, she noticed a silhouetted form move closer and heard an older man announce, “I am sorry I doubted your mother’s skill, boy.”

“Told you,” Pod said proudly to the Maester who leaned in to check on the Queen. 

Brienne groaned, trying to recall what happened and winced in pain when the back of her head fell back onto the pillows. “Damn-it Pod, what did you rub on me?” The noxious odor was making her headache worse. 

“It is something to help you feel better, your Grace.” By his unrepentant tone, it sounded as if he knew this concoction would cause such a severe reaction from her. 

“Come closer so I can show you my appreciation for your concern, Pod,” Her growled answer made him flinch, and he loudly gulped. 

The Maester’s stern voice cut through her anger, “Be calm, your Grace. The lad was only trying to help you.”

Gnashing her teeth in frustration, Brienne now recalled why she was laid up in bed. She would have leaped from it had she not seen Podrick subtly motioning for her to stay put. It was just as well, her head was killing her, and whenever she moved, it pulsed like an open wound. 

Podrick further cautioned, “Now you mustn’t cause any more trouble by making a scene.” She frowned at his warning; he would never dare say such a thing to her. Squinting up at him, she figured he must be up to something. And was she mistaken or was he slightly slurring his words? She swore he was drunk! 

But even with him inebriated and her head pounding, she understood what his real message was. Do the opposite and be your usual contrary self, ‘Which was not hard to do with this headache.’ She sniffed the air and grimaced, ‘and gods, what was this accursed stuff made of?’ She better not break out in a rash. 

Groaning in anger and pain, it was just not the smell that was affecting her mood. She wanted to throttle the people who thought they could quiet her and get away with usurping her power. But most of all, she was worried about Jaime and hoped he was alright.

The Maester nodded knowingly, “Given her current state, her behavior is not surprising. How are you feeling, your Grace?” He spoke louder, sounding as if he was addressing an addled child.

“How do you think?” Brienne snapped angrily. She wished she knew what her squire was up to. For some reason, her obstinate behavior was important to her his plans. She trusted Pod regardless, even if he was a tad tipsy.

The Maester leaned back and pursed his lips. He could understand why she was still upset. But if only she would realize that she had been taken in by the charms of that murderer Jaime Lannister, then he knew she would not be so disagreeable. 

As Lady Olenna had calmly explained to him earlier that the new Queen was obviously ruling with her heart and not her head. Over time she would accept the true nature of Lord Jaime’s manipulations, but in the meantime, there were important documents that needed to be signed and worried nobles that needed reassurance. 

Behind them, a blurry eyed Ser Blount asked hopeful, “Should I order a page to wake up Lord Baelish and Lady Olenna?” The guards had earlier declined the stinky ointment that Podrick had tried to foist on them. Alas their energy was waning like the full moon’s light as the dark thunderclouds continued to rumble over the land. 

The Queen growled, “Go ahead and wake them. I will happily tell them what they could do with those papers.” Brienne nearly threw her pillow at them but decided not to push her luck. She would probably get another dose of the sleeping-draught for her troubles. 

She glowered, and Podrick held his breath as they awaited word from the Maester. After much deliberation, the older man held up his hand and told the frustrated guards, “Hold one moment. Perhaps we should wait a bit first.”

Brienne stopped a triumphant snort from escaping and continued to scowl.

Gauging the situation, the Maester weighed his options. The Queen’s obstinate manner could be caused by her injury and not the feelings of betrayal. That was the problem with head wounds; it was always difficult to evaluate a patient’s behavior in the beginning. 

As he stared down at her thinking, the ever helpful Pod suggested, “Food might quench her temper.” He then added as an aside to the Maester, “I find that she is most disagreeable if she is hungry.”

The Maester agreed with a brisk nod and watched as Podrick excused himself to order the food. If the Queen could get through an entire meal without throwing it at them, she was fit enough to sign those documents.

When Pod reentered smiling a triumphant grin, Brienne didn’t know if she wanted to box his ears or scream in frustration. But mainly she was desperate to ask him a question about a certain someone. Alas, with the healer right there, she wouldn’t dare. 

While they waited for the food, the Maester continued to check her vitals. Brienne had to stop herself from biting his fingers when they got too close to her mouth. She swore if he dared try to examine her teeth—

Finally, the kitchen staff sent up the best course they could fabricate at such a late hour. But as usual, they outdid themselves. Succulent pig with fried potatoes and a mound of garlic flavored vegetables were heaped atop the large plate on the center of the tray. The smell added to the mouthwatering sight and most licked their lips at the presentation. But it was an enormous piece of chocolate cake that caught everyone’s gaze. Next, to it, a pot of steaming tea and a carafe of red wine barely fit on the already full platter. 

For once Ser Blount did not mind being the food taster. Salivating over the luscious sight, the corpulent guard greedily took a bigger portion of each selection than what he normally would have. Alas, it wasn’t enough, and his stomach grumbled as the tray was taken from him by the scowling Pod. He then presented it to the Queen.

Tiredly Brienne pushed herself upright, so she would not choke when she ate.

As he placed the tray on her lap, Pod subtly shook his head, indicating for her not to eat it. 

Brienne turned her head away and refused the food. Even without his prompting, she found that just sitting straight had her feeling nauseous and dizzy. She figured that the drugs and the bump on her head were to blame. “I don’t want it.” She growled petulantly and crossed her arms. She must have done right because Pod smiled at her pleased.

With an irritating tone, Podrick scolded her, “What do you mean you don’t want this food? Do not be a problem, mistress. You have already caused enough trouble as it is.”

She upped her glare in intensity and Pod smirked impressed.

Rubbing his chin, a thoughtful Podrick said, “Hum, maybe food is not the answer.” He nodded to himself, “Actually now that I think of it, whenever she is this cranky, it is because she did not get enough rest. Can you give her something to help her sleep until the morning?”

Before the Maester could reply, Ser Kettleback groused, “Hasn’t she has slept enough already!” 

Massaging his aching cheek, Ser Blount heartily agreed, “Yeah, and I thought with head wounds you should be kept awake.” 

Pod assured them, “Trust me, the blow to her head hardly affected her, she has a thick skull. She is just being stubborn.” He wagged his finger at her and Brienne fought the urge snap it off at the base. Play acting or not, she often discouraged such impudence from her squire.

Disregarding the peril that he was placing himself into, Pod continued, “No, I think it is best if she sleeps until the morrow, I am sure she will be in a better mood then.” He nearly jumped when a distant thunderclap reverberated across the valley. “Um, maybe you have something to make her more relaxed so that she will get a full sleep?”

Still, the Maester was hesitant, “I don’t know, one must be careful with head wounds.” 

Podrick swallowed his panic, and quickly said, “Don’t worry, I will keep an eye on her and alert you should anything change.” 

Brienne growled dangerously low, and she began to push the heavy-laden tray aside to leave her bed, “I’m not signing anything!” The guards placed their hands on the pummels of their swords and advanced. Before they could take more than two steps, the Maester and Podrick easily pushed Brienne back into bed when she buckled from lightheadedness. After being tucked in, Podrick once more placed the tray over her blanketed lap.

“Try some tea, mistress.” Pod quickly filled her cup with the sweet, fragrant brew, but still, she refused the offer.

The Maester continued to study his charge. It was true that even though the Queen was barely able to stay erect, she was still angry enough to cause trouble. Maybe rest was just what she needed to clear her head. Hopefully, then she would realize the truth of her situation. Besides, he did not want to wake up the council unless she was willing to sign the documents. He imagined they would be rather cranky at this hour. 

Pursing his lips, the Maester relinquished to the squire’s sage advice and nodded in agreement. “Alright, young Podrick, I can give her something to calm her down so she will sleep until the morning.” 

The two exhausted Queensguards groaned in unison at his response.

The Maester removed a vial of clear liquid from his pouch and was about to pour it in her tea, but Pod plucked the container from the man’s fingers. “No need, she can drink it like this.”

Not knowing the extent of her anger, the Maester worried she would put up a fuss about being drugged again. He motioned the guards forward to assist Podrick.

Pod shooed them back, and they frowned at his rudeness. Quickly Podrick blurted, “No, I have it under control, but you best stay back, or she won’t take this. She only trusts me.” 

Brienne snapped her teeth loudly at the Master, and he hurried back a few steps.

As Pod turned to Brienne, she shifted in apprehension, which caused the tray on her lap to rattle loudly. “Now mistress, you need your rest—“ She was staring daggers at him as he approached with the vial. He winked at her and mouthed the words, “Trust me.”

Podrick acknowledged her grimace and assured her, “I know your Grace, but you need it so that you can get some proper rest. Sleep will help clear up the pain and dizziness, too.” He looked over his shoulder at the Maester and the Queensguard and smugly stated, “See, I have dealt with her stubbornness far longer than you.”

He ignored the Queen’s glower, and she began to grumble at him through clenched teeth, ready to tell him exactly what he could do with her stubbornness. She stopped when he poured the vial’s contents onto the food instead of down her throat. Thankfully the stench that he had rubbed on her hid the sudden whiff of the medicinal smell that wafted up from the doused food.

With Pod’s back to them, the other’s view was blocked from seeing this and her surprised reaction. Podrick nearly gave it all away when she looked up at him in amazement. Very seldom had he ever caught her unawares.

Smirking, he could not wait to later brag to her on how it was his idea and not Bronn’s to douse the food with the sleeping draught. He could not help the goofy grin on his face and winked at her. Podrick ignored the sudden rage that flared in her gaze, and he mouthed the words, “Pretend to sleep.”

Podrick heard a distinct growl of, “I hope you know what you are doing.” And then Brienne flopped back onto her pillow, ‘unconscious.’ 

She hoped she hadn’t overacted too much.

Pushing himself past the helpful squire to check on the Queen, the Maester nodded. He had chosen wisely in not calling the council members here. The Queen was in no shape to sign anything. But just to make sure she was passed out, he carefully pried open an eyelid. He saw that her eyes had rolled back into her head.

Podrick was momentarily worried at this close examination, but it seemed that his mistress had been knocked out enough in the past to know how to feign it.

Tsking, the healer said, “Yes, this was the right thing to do.”

Podrick heard the two injured Queensguard grumble, but they were ignored. 

The Maester declared, “She should be better in a few hours. Just keep an eye on her in case she takes a turn for the worse. But I doubt it. Thankfully, it should be a quiet rest of the night for all of you.”

Gathering his things, he patted Podrick on the shoulder and headed towards the door, “I will check on her in a few hours.”

Once the Maester had left the room, Pod grabbed the tray from the Queen’s lap. Shaking his head, he declared sadly, “It is such a waste that she cannot eat this amazing meal. I know that the chef really wanted the Queen to feel better, so he used the finest ingredients.” 

Watching the food like a bereaved hawk, Blount stated forlornly, “Yeah, it was really good.”

Suddenly, Podrick stopped and looked at the guards as if a thought had dawned on him. Smiling he enthused, “Well, this cannot go to waste. Come, you must eat it.”

It took no other prompting. As they made a beeline towards him, Pod turned and placed the tray of tainted food on the nearby table. Alas, since the entire meal was to be shared by the two guards, neither would get the full dose to knock them out. Luckily for Pod’s plan to work, that would not be necessary. The guards only needed enough to make them groggy and unobservant of their surroundings. It also helped that they were already exhausted on their feet.

While they gorged themselves on the amazing feast, Podrick went over to the Queen. Pretending to adjust her blankets, Podrick whispered to her, “Your Grace, just a little more time and then you should be able to escape.”

“Wonderful,” Brienne said pleased. Before Pod pulled away, she clasped Pod’s arm and said earnestly, “Thank you so much, Pod. I take you for granted so often that I sometimes forget how hard you work to help me. I am truly blessed to have you in my life.”

For once he was the one who blushed bright red, and he shuffled his feet. “Anytime, mistress. Now sleep.”

She nodded and once more feigned unconsciousness.

“Hey, what’s this?” Podrick jumped when he heard Kettleback advancing, “Is she still awake?”

Quickly Pod backed away from the bed and turned to block the knight’s view of the reposed Queen. “No, no. I thought she was. She was only talking in her sleep.”

The knight nodded gruffly and went back to joining Blount in stuffing his face with the food. Seeing the meat juices dribbling down their chins made Pod grimace at their table manners.

Not having eaten in a long time, Kettleback and Blount soon had devoured all the food and Podrick was surprised that the plates had not disappeared as well.

After a dignified belch, Blount wiped his mouth against the sleeve of his tunic. Kettleback frowned at his friend’s conduct and shook his head in disgust. Blount shrugged at him as if to say, “What can you do?”

They then both ambled back to their posts by the door. Once more they stared ahead bored, but now and then, they burped or scratched places that Pod would rather not know of.

Inhaling to gather courage, Podrick then joined them. As he approached, he scrutinized them, gauging for when the draught would begin to work. 

They glared at him suspiciously. 

Clearing his throat, Pod said, “You two must have had a really long day. Why don’t I get you some chairs so you can rest—“

A jovial Blount replied, “Oh, what a considerate lad. Nah, we are knights and have been through tougher assignments.” He belched for emphasis.

Wiping his forehead, Kettleback slightly slurred, “You aren’t such a brat, after all. I bet you could have been a good squire if you hadn’t been saddled to her.”

“Ha-ha saddled like the horse that she is,” Blount said laughing, and Kettleback grinned in amusement.

Pod barely stopped himself from defending his mistress’ honor. These so-called knights would never understand the concept of integrity, even if it had been freely bestowed upon them by the Seven! He recalled the rumors of these supposed champions of virtue. How Blount would repeatedly strike Lady Sansa Stark and take bribes from nobles. And it was even said that Kettleback had not really been knighted by Ser Robert Strong on the battlefield.  
Thankfully Pod did not have to wait long for them to be affected by the sleeping draught and he watched as they started to sway. When their eyes became resting slits, Pod rang for the servants. He was rather pleased with how this was all working out, and it was mostly due to him. At this rate, he figured he could convince anyone to do anything!

A light knock on the door broke Pod from his self-congratulations. After noticing that the guards did not even register the noise, Pod declared loudly, “Oh that must be the serving staff come to pick up the tray.”

Kettleback waved him off and nearly fell over from the movement. Blount just stared ahead in a daze.

After Pod opened the door, a disguised Beatrice and a tall blonde-haired boy entered. Podrick frowned and looked at the older woman in confusion. She was supposed to bring a serving wench, not a lad.

Beatrice whispered chagrinned, “Sorry, my son was the only one tall enough that I could find on such short notice.”

Podrick mumbled to himself, “Well, it wasn’t the first time my mistress had been mistaken for a man.”

Beatrice frowned at his comment, and Podrick shrugged apologetically. As the two ‘servants’ began to walk towards the table that had the food tray, Pod focused his attention on the guards once again.

This time he exclaimed, “Why what is that!” And he thrust his finger at a darkened corner dramatically. The guards were only semi-alert and hazily looked at where he pointed. Not seeing anything, they stumbled closer to the wall. To keep them occupied, Pod insisted, “I swear I saw something move.” With the guard’s backs to the Queen, Pod motioned Beatrice and her son onwards.

While Pod kept the two drugged guards distracted, Beatrice and her son sneaked over to the regal bed. The older woman stared in concern at Brienne, who appeared pale enough to almost blend in with the stark white sheets.

“Your Grace,” Beatrice whispered to the reclined Queen, “we are here to free you. My son is roughly your size, so you can trade clothes with him.”

Cautiously, Brienne opened one eye and stared up at the royal seamstress. Her tense features suddenly relaxed and she smiled in relief. She then frowned when she spied the tall, blonde-haired lad standing next to the older woman.

Beatrice noticed Brienne’s scowl, “Sorry my Queen, I know it is beneath you to dress like him, but it was the best I could do with the time given.” 

Brienne reached over and lightly clasped the older woman’s hand. “It is fine, thank you.”

Glancing over at the guards, Brienne saw that her squire had the situation under control. So not to alert them that she was awake, Brienne slowly got up. 

Planting her feet on the cold floor, Brienne stood, but then swayed, fighting to keep from falling over. Beatrice and her son quickly grabbed an arm to keep her upright. Brienne clenched her eyes and lips tightly shut, as she fought back the nausea that made her extremities tingle immediately from cold to clammy. 

Wanting to focus on anything but how dreadful she felt, Brienne gritted out quietly, “Any word on Ser Jaime?”

“He is well, your Grace,” Beatrice assured her as she waited for Brienne to acclimatize herself to being upright.

“You saw him?”

“Yes, and I know he is concerned for your wellbeing.” Unsaid was, “As we all are.”

Nodding her thanks, Brienne then opened her eyes and exhaled. Thankfully she was feeling better already. 

Casting a glance to the distracted guards, Brienne relaxed. She saw that not only had Podrick done a marvelous job of keeping the drugged guards busy but of providing a perfect means of escape.

“Come with me.” While her son waited in front of the changing screen, Beatrice pulled Brienne behind it. In no time Beatrice had removed Brienne’s sleeping gown and had given it to her son. Once they exchanged clothes, the royal seamstress then put her son’s tunic over Brienne’s head and pulled it down. It barely reached her waist, but it was enough to cover her body. 

As she was handed the boy’s trousers, Brienne whispered, “I appreciate this, but you and your son could get into a lot of trouble should you be caught.” 

Beatrice waved off the Queen’s concerns, “Oh, my boy will get a whipping, but he is used to it. He was once ‘friends’ with King Joffrey.”

When Brienne drew up the son’s trousers, a problem became apparent. Regardless of the boy’s gangly height, Brienne was still taller than him. The pant legs cuffs came to mid-calf, and both she and Beatrice winced. Beatrice then winked at her and said, “Perhaps people will think that my son just had an extreme growth spurt.” 

Brienne grimaced, but there was nothing they could do about it.

After the son had poked his head through the top of the regal frock, he smiled over at the Queen shyly, and she grinned her gratitude back to him. He removed his stocking cap from his head and handed it to her.

With a slight wince, Brienne pulled the bandage turban off her head and placed it on the boy’s short blonde hair. Her oversized bandage tipped over his eyes, and he pushed it back trying to balance it right. Thankfully the cumbersome object would obscure the lad’s features well.

Quickly Brienne dunned the cap and grimaced as she pulled it far down over her head to disguise herself better. Tucking any strands of hair that poked out, she glanced to Beatrice. The older woman smiled and nodded her approval.

Before the guards could glance their way and discover what was going on, Beatrice’s son scooted under the covers until only his bandaged head peeked out.

Surreptitiously keeping an eye on all that was going on behind the guards back, Podrick put his hands on his hips and declared, “Well I am sorry gentlemen, I thought I had seen something.” The dazed guards frowned drunkenly at him, and they stumbled back to their post.

As they slumped against the wall barely awake, Pod went over to the table and grabbed the food tray. “Here, please thank the chef for the fine meal.” He went to pass it to Brienne, and she tried to grasp the tray but missed it.   
She muttered discouraged, “Damn double vision.”

Beatrice quickly grabbed it from Podrick before the guards could notice the gaffe.

Brienne nodded her thanks to him and cautiously wobbled behind Beatrice following her to the door.

Kettleback and Blount were so out of it, they did not suspect a thing, and Pod grinned relieved that it had all worked out. He and Brienne exchanged a brief grin and then she was out the door, trailing behind Beatrice.

As the door shut behind them, Brienne had a sudden bout of vertigo and suddenly grabbed one of the Queensguard who stood sentry outside the door to stop from falling. At his hiss of outrage, she hastily let go and swayed, trying to stand straight. Sniffing the air, the guard groused, “You reek of alcohol! Great, now the servants are drinking while on the job. This whole castle has gone to hell since she was made Queen!” 

“Yeah,” the other guard grumbled, “What a lark. Lord Baelish himself told me he had never seen such a thing.” He turned his attention to Beatrice, “What’s the word from the servants. You can trust me; I bet you all know all the juicy gossip about the Queen.”

The disguised royal seamstress stated coolly, “We have only heard what all of you have been saying.”

The other guard leaned in close and confided, “Well, I tell yah, I’m surprised the Queen isn’t in the dungeons for her traitorous actions. She fights us to free her lover Lannister so that he could kill again, but she is still Queen? Hell, I’d take crazy Cersei over this one ungainly cow any day, that’s for sure.”

At these insults, Brienne sobered enough to want to beat some manners into them. 

Seeing the Queen balling her fists, Beatrice quickly smacked Brienne hard on the arm and chided, “You are going to lose your job if you continue such behavior. I have a right mind to fire you on the spot!” 

Suddenly remembering who she was supposed to be, Brienne lowered her voice and whined, “No please don’t. This is the only job I could get.”

The guard must have felt bad. He quickly stated, “Don’t worry, it’s alright. We won’t tell, this time.”

Brienne bobbed her head up and down in thanks and followed close behind Beatrice who continued to insult her, “Boy, you are lucky I don’t have you whipped for such things—“ 

When they rounded the corner, Brienne had to suddenly stop and rest against the wall. Beatrice glanced up and down the hall, concerned that at any moment a passing patrol might come upon them. “Please your Grace; we must keep moving.”

Brienne inhaled a few times and then nodded she was ready. They walked a slow pace as they headed away from the Queen’s apartments. 

The further they went the worse Brienne felt, and she wished she could sleep for a few more days. Besides the nausea, she felt lethargic. At least she was no longer seeing double.

With all that was against them, she was tempted to grab Jaime and then high tail it out of there. Sighing, she reminded herself that she was an honorable person and since she had promised to rule the realm, then she would have to stay and do her best to keep that vow. 

It just all seemed so overwhelming, and Brienne could not help herself when she leaned on Beatrice as they continued along the thankfully deserted corridor. The royal seamstress stated to Brienne in concern, “Your Grace, you should not be out of bed.”

“I have to talk to Jaime.” Saying it out loud seemed to help fortify her, and she stood up straighter. “And you best go on your way. I can make it from here.”

“Please let me come with you. You cannot make it on your own.”

Always stubborn, Brienne forced herself to walk unassisted, “No, you should hide. I might be able to protect your son because he is young, but you are an adult, and they will punish you for helping me should I be discovered gone.” She added for emphasis, “As your Queen, I command you thus.”

“Than take this.” Beatrice pressed a stub of a candle into Brienne’s hand, and the Queen pocketed it.

Grim, Beatrice then watched as the stoic Queen lurched her way down the hall. Only once did she nearly careen into the wall.

“Ser Jaime is not going to like this,” Beatrice grumbled and shook her head in worry. 

“Don’t worry; I will watch over her and keep her safe from harm,” Bronn said in her ear, and she jumped. Luckily, she did not make a sound and only glared at his audacity. 

He smirked at her and then followed the distracted Queen.

So worried for their lives, Beatrice did not see one of the nearby shadows moving. But though she did not notice anything odd, she thought she heard the distinctive sound of rustling cloth. Quickly glancing about, all she saw were shadows.

Shuddering as her imagination took over, she thought of the all possible tortures should this all go bad, Beatrice quickly hurried back towards the kitchen to return the tray. She would come back to wait for the Queen’s reappearance, so she could help exchange her son with the Queen.

In the meantime, she really hoped they did not get killed over this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support. You all are the best!
> 
> Next week: Reunion


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY VALENTINE"S DAY!
> 
> To: My amazing, wonderful and patient readers
> 
> From: The evil writer who always leaves a chapter on a cliffhanger ;-)
> 
> Oddly, this chapter seemed to work perfectly for this day, so I decided to publish it early. Enjoy!

Lurching around the corner, a grateful Brienne finally found herself in front of Pycelle’s office. She really needed to sit down. Frankly, it was only her stubborn resolve to meet with Jaime that had gotten her this far. If she was honest, a few times she had been tempted to sneak back to her royal chambers; the lure to lie down was that strong. Her head still hurt, but she figured it was the remnants of the drug in her system that was the main crux of her issues.

Other than her continually fighting the malaise that seemed to leech energy from her body with every step, Podrick’s plan was working perfectly. So far, her disguise as a young man had enabled her to get past the few patrols that marched down the corridors. Most ignored her. Obviously, she was not who they hunted. Though when one of the officers saw her ‘drunken’ stutters, he ordered her to get to her room and sleep it off. She hoarsely stated that was where she was headed to and he left her be. 

Thankfully the section of the Keep that she was in now was not being patrolled that often, and she easily avoided the few that did. 

After making sure that no one was around, Brienne pressed her ear to the door of Pycelle’s office. Not hearing anyone within, she turned the knob. Though she was relieved that the door was unlocked, she wondered why.   
After one last quick cursory glance up and down the hallway to make sure it was still deserted, she pushed open the heavy door. The neglected hinges groaned loudly from her actions, and she winced at the noise it made.

As she peered into the darkened chamber, a cold wind suddenly whipped down the corridor, and she shivered.

Quickly she entered the disused room. Before the door shut, she lit the small stub of a candle that Beatrice had pressed into her palm before they had split up.

The small candle’s flicker of light cast dancing shadows upon the multitude of objects in the room. The illusion that something moved just beyond the gloom was heightened by this effect. Trying to ignore the underlying dread that seemed to permeate around her, Brienne scrutinized the cluttered room. It smelled of decay, and a musty odor clung to the air. Suddenly chilled, she rubbed her free hand up and down her other arm.

Apparently, the chamber had been derelict for a while, and it was no wonder why it remained empty. Grimacing at the mess that surrounded her, Brienne understood why no one bothered to lock the door. Who would want to risk the chance of illness to steal the few pitiful belongings of worth within? Brienne vowed that when she was back in power, she would have the room doused with fire to cleanse it. 

After she had taken a few hesitant steps further into the room, she hissed, “Jaime, Jaime, are you in here?” 

Seeing a large shape looming in the corner, she rushed over to it, her lethargy forgotten instantly. She recoiled when she realized that it was that damn suit of armor. The massive figure was even more imposing in the candlelight and she shuddered in revulsion. That would be the first object she’d have burned, she thought with a tight nod.

Hearing a noise behind her, she spun. The breeze from her sudden movement caused the already short candle wick to go out. Just before the room became dark, she saw a rodent scurry across the floor in front of her. It disappeared into a pile of junk. She grimaced but did not yell. At least these rats were easy to distinguish from the human-sized ones that ran the council.

Jaime obviously had not arrived yet, so she backtracked to the corner, furthest from the ominous towering armor. Though her eyes were getting adjusted to the dark, she relit her candle. As if attracted to the illumination, minute noises seemed to surround her, as if closing in. Uneasy, her gaze continuously darted about the room. Already spooked (which she chided herself for), she grabbed a heavy book in her right hand, ready to use it as a weapon.

Preoccupied with the possibility of a frontal assault, she did not hear the door to the secret passage open behind her.

Jaime emerged from the hidden panel and stopped. He was surprised to find that there was a muted light source nearby and his eyes quickly adjusted to take in his surroundings. 

Startled, he frowned at this tall boy who stood with his back to him. The anxious lad seemed to be peering about the room as if afraid something would leap out at any moment. Jaime figured he best chase this kid off, so he and Brienne would have some privacy once she arrived. He smiled at the thought of a prank that he used to do to his baby brother and snuck up behind the boy. If they were scared now, just wait until he was done with them. 

Standing directly behind him, Jaime removed the glove that concealed his golden hand. He then lightly ran the cold metal down the back of the boy’s neck, but unlike Tyrion, the lad reacted violently. Jaime suddenly found himself on his ass after a big book had swung into his face. He hissed in pain as he rubbed his aching jaw. That was all he needed, being caught by some servant’s child.

Jaime flinched when the boy raised the heavy book again to finish him off. If Jaime realized that he had made a girly shriek, he would have been embarrassed, but he was too busy covering his head while squeaking, “Stop!”   
Luckily, the candlelight bounced off his golden hand, and the boy stopped in mid-swing.

He heard a breathless, “Jaime!”

Recognizing the voice, Jaime exhaled and relaxed. Smirking, his eyes looked her up and down, “Sorry, I did not recognize you in your disguise, your Grace.” 

Suddenly embarrassed that she looked ridiculous, Brienne tried to pull down the short tunic that had ridden up from her actions. She glared at him, her anger flaring up. How this man infuriated her! Incensed, she wondered why she even bothered worrying about him at all.

She sneered defensively, “No need to mock me, Ser. I know I look absurd.” 

Brienne dropped the heavy book by Jaime’s head, and the sharp sound made him wince. 

Though he knew he was pressing his luck, Jaime could not stop his gaze from lingering on the long expanse of her bare calves. Licking his lips, he stared into her eyes and stated appreciatively, “Far from it, my Lady. Actually, I think you should wear that more often. It shows off your amazing legs.” 

His heated gaze made her swallow loudly, indignation forgotten. Glad that the candlelight hid the deep rouge of her blush, she held out her hand to him, and Jaime grabbed it. Pulling him up on his feet, their eyes stayed locked upon the others, and they gazed longingly into them. 

Emotions warred, preventing either from speaking right away. Then their sentiments poured forth. 

“I was so worried about you—“ they both breathed out in unison. Jaime flashed his charming grin and both relaxed, neither breaking eye contact.

For some reason, Brienne once more felt self-conscious. She chided herself, for, during the entire journey to King’s Landing, she had been confident and determined to tell Jaime her true feelings for him. But it seemed that when her fantasy was a possibility, she became apprehensive. She fretted her lower lip, unsure of what to do now.

It was Jaime’s stare of selfless devotion that helped calm her. He was still her good friend, and one of the few people she trusted. Especially when it came to matters of the heart. But still, she hemmed on declaring her affections for him. Instead, she assessed his appearance. He was exhausted and had dirt smudges on his face and clothing, but to her, he was just as handsome as ever.

“Are you alright?” She asked him as she let go of his hand quickly. 

Jaime nodded, but seemed unhappy that she had released his hand, “You?” He tried to gauge how she fared, but she glanced away. He still noticed that though she presented a strong facade, she looked fatigued, as if she was about to drop at any moment.

Embarrassed by his scrutiny, Brienne shrugged and said, “I’ll live.” She cleared her throat and indicated the direction that he had come from. “I remembered in your report that you said there was a secret panel in this room. I assume that is where you just came from.” 

As if she had tempted fate and lost, they heard the faint sound of the approaching guard’s boots getting louder from behind the walls. 

Jaime grinned wryly as if to say some jape, but instead, he studied their surroundings.

Seeing the only viable place to hide, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and pulled her over to the immense suit of armor tucked in the adjacent corner. 

Hesitant to get near such an abomination, Brienne dragged her feet, which caused Jaime to whisper, “It is the only object large enough to conceal us.”

She obviously still did not like it, but reluctantly acquiesced to his suggestion. They had to squeeze in behind the unyielding armor, and Brienne swore she lost some skin when a sharp piece of metal from the cubitiere scrapped against her arm. 

Since it was such a tight fit, they had no choice but to hold each other close to stay out of sight. Though Brienne had wanted to be held by Jaime for some time, their current predicament ruined the fantasy.

The armor smelled of death, and she recalled that a cadaver was still within it. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and dropped her face so that she could bury it in Jaime’s neck. She much preferred his scent. Though he mostly smelled of sweat, the faint honey sweetness was all his, and she reveled in the comfort that she always associated with it.

Her pleasant thoughts were interrupted when they heard the patrolling guards open the secret panel. Holding their breath, they saw a lit torch dip quickly into the room. It was gone just as fast and the secret panel once more shut with a click.

Jaime hissed in her ear, “They usually don’t come in here if they don’t have to. I think they are too spooked. There are rumors that this part of the Keep is now haunted by Maester Pycelle, with this room being the center of the activity.” 

She almost openly scoffed at such nonsense but being held in Jaime’s arms made her not care about such trifle things. Feeling safe and warm, she began to drift off to sleep.

He must have noticed how relaxed she had become, for his voice became softer, “At this time of night, the guards only patrol the secret passages every hour.”

A drowsy Brienne nodded, “Good, that should give us enough time to figure something out.” She rubbed her face against his chest as if she was a newborn kitten and her exhale almost sounded like a resigned purr, “I wish I could stay longer, but it won’t be long until they realize that I am gone.”

They both sighed at this, but neither of them moved right away. Jaime whispered, “Though I am loathed to move, I think we can do better.”

She barely nodded in understanding.

Reluctantly, Jaime took a step away from her to exit their concealed spot. Without his support, Brienne suddenly swayed, but Jaime caught her before she could fall. Exhausted, she sagged in his arms. It was because of her complete trust in Jaime that she allowed herself to give in to this momentary weakness.

Jaime hugged her tighter. Trying to mask his concern, he jested, “I know, the smell from this armor is atrocious.”

“I’ll be alright in a moment.” Her muffled voice answered, and she clutched him closer.

Once she was steady, he led them away from the armor and closer to the main door. He still refused to let her go, his grip around her waist strong. “It should be less rank over here.”

Chagrinned she stated, “You must bear with me, I am still not at one hundred percent.” It took her a few tries, but Brienne was able to relight the candle stub.

Even in the flickering light, Jaime could make out her wane features. “You are paler than usual.” His cool palm touched her forehead in concern. “How are you feeling, really?”

Brienne exhaled tiredly, “Headache, exhausted, but I am ready to stop the council’s foolishness. How dare they think they can usurp me?”

Jaime grinned in relief at her adamant response. “There is the stubborn wench I know,” he said softly. 

She snorted and glared at him. Her voice growled with outrage, “Yes jest, but they are forcing me to marry Loras and place Littlefinger permanently as my Hand.”

Once more her lethargy abated, and she pushed away from him. Angered, she began to pace, “For now I am able to stall them from signing those contracts, but not for much longer.” She winced as pain lanced through her head. Yanking off the cap that concealed her hair, she rubbed the tender knot on the back of her skull.

Frowning, Jaime stepped into her path and indicated her head with a nod of his own, his tone serious, “What happened after I left you?” 

“Oh, I beat them all good.” Her proud grin became stiff, and she could not look him in the eye, “And I would have won too if I hadn’t been hit from behind by your damn golden hand.”

At first, his face reflected delight in her success, but then he scowled at the mention of his metal hand.

“Any idea which coward hit you from behind? I would like to repay the gesture in kind.” He smacked his golden fist into his other palm.

Her teeth clenched tight as she grounded out, “The only one I did not account for was Mace Tyrell.”

Jaime scoffed, “The great Brienne of Tarth, taken down by a nincompoop.” He gently touched her head, serious as the day was long, “I should never have left you to fight them alone.”

Her hand reached out and clasped his, “And I couldn’t let them catch you.” Anxious she said, “I was so worried about you, Jaime. You must be careful. The council will have you executed, and I won’t be able to stop them this time.” Her voice caught at the thought that she could not protect him.

He squeezed her hand back, “And it sounds like I am not the only one who needs to be careful. Littlefinger does not like to be denied, Brienne.”

She sneered, her stubborn pride rearing, “I do not fear that little man.”

Jaime shook his head in worry, “Do not underestimate him Brienne. Queen or not, if he thinks you are a threat, you will end up like my Uncle and Pycelle. It would not be difficult to shove you from the parapet, too.”

“Then I just have to stay ten steps ahead of him.”

Jaime smiled sadly, “That would be fine if Littlefinger didn’t know the direction you were going in. It is only a matter of time before he realizes that he cannot manipulate you and thus are of no further use to him.” His voice hitched as he stroked her cheek, “I cannot lose you.”

Careful so not to dislodge his touch, she faintly shook her head, “And I cannot lose you either. If that were to happen, I would become cold as stone.” 

She was not exaggerating. Through her entire life, she had been jeered and derided for who she truly was. Her external walls were only so thick, but her vulnerable heart could still be easily pierced, so only a few she would ever allow in. Now there was only one she would love with more than her heart. And if Jaime were killed, there would be no reason to fight the council any longer. 

True she would do what she could for the people of Westeros, but the cost would be great. It would only be a matter of time before the council pecked her apart until she gave in to all their demands. Then she would be married to a man she did not love, swelling with his child.

And make no mistake, once she bore them an heir, there was the parapet that Jaime reminded her of.

She watched the raw emotions wash over Jaime’s face as he processed what she had just confided to him. His features went from stunned to heartbroken, his voice hoarse with emotion, “And knowing that such a loathsome life would destroy you, kills me. You deserve to be free, my Queen.” He kissed her palm, his eyes never leaving her gaze, “My true heart.” 

She swallowed loudly at his declaration, and she curtly bobbed her head, “As you are mine.”

With the truth finally revealed, she moved into his welcoming embrace. Their lips were so close they could feel their warm breaths intermingle. Eyes locked, they leaned in until their foreheads touched and each gently caressed the others cheek.

Then all doubt, all concerns, suddenly became distant and melted away. Knowing they might never see each other again, all those barriers dropped. Emotions soaring, they mirrored one another as they angled inwards.

Proving to be a thoughtful lover, Jaime lightly kissed her cheek, his lips just brushing the heated skin. He had only been with one other, and he knew what his sister liked. But Brienne was an enigma to him. With no other experience in these regards, he did not want to start out by using the same technique he used on his sister. It just felt wrong and a betrayal to Brienne.

So Jaime fell back on what he was confident doing before his hand had been chopped off. Relying on the strategy of how he usually sparred, he continued to use these light attacks against her face and neck to draw out her passions. And his touch was always gentle, just like his very soul. 

Her mind a whirl, an impatient Brienne sighed. Though she saw the tactical advantage of such a tender gesture, this was love, not the sparing yard.

Besides, they had did not have time for a romantic advance and retreat, so she relied on her usual course of action, she jumped right in. When he began to nuzzle her ear, her palms softly grasped his stubbled cheeks, and she gently pulled him to face her. She confronted his hurtful expression with a smile that was bright and full of possibilities.

His wounded features melted into a wistful grin and he sighed in relief. She was nothing like his sister. 

This time, they met in the middle, equal as always, and their lips pressed, soft to chap. 

Though she was the first to initiate contact, their passions quickly erupted, and Jaime pushed harder into her lips and deepened the kiss. 

She had never kissed anyone before, and she could not believe the feeling of desire that coursed through her body. Her exhaustion instantly dissipated and was replaced by a more pleasurable sensation. Brienne wanted to laugh in joyous rapture for she had never felt so free and alive, all her burdens forgotten. 

Finally needing air, they reluctantly parted. Breathless, they gazed longingly into each other’s eyes. Both grinned unapologetically. Though it had been an awkward first kiss, they did not care. At times their teeth clicked against one another’s, or their mouths sucked too hard, but that didn’t matter. They were finally where they needed to be, with each other.

Inhaling, Jaime smiled wider, “That was so much and more.”

Brienne quickly bobbed her head in agreement and both once more kissed deeply. As their tongues swirled and darted in and out playfully, the giddiness Brienne felt was like a drug, and she could not get enough of him. 

Soon hands were everywhere, kneading, caressing, tugging. Hunger overwhelmed their senses; each wanting the other so badly that it began to hurt but in a good way. Brienne swore that her very core was on fire and by the pleasurable moans that Jaime was making, he must have felt the same. 

Alas, it was the sound of rats scurrying nearby that broke through the spell. Panting, they reluctantly pulled back from each other. Trying to ignore the background noise, Brienne rested her head on Jaime’s shoulder. 

Tightening his hold on her, Jaime exhaled a laugh, “This is not where I imagined our first kiss to take place at.”

“True, it is not very romantic.” She agreed. Content and safe, she drew comfort from his embrace. “But I would rather be nowhere else.”

Delighted, he could not help the wide grin that overcame his features. She was finally his. Still, he teased her, “Yes, I am surprised that you choose here to meet.” 

“I had my reasons,” she challenged back as she snuggled deeper into his hold.

He squeezed her fiercely in rebuttal. Chuckling he said, “Hum, yes interesting place you picked out, wench.” He dipped his head so he could look her in the eyes, “But if you wanted me all to yourself, all you had to do was ask.”

She smirked, “And what makes you think I could have caught you, my Lord. Not even the palace guards could.”

His fingers flittered down her cheek to the back of her neck as he caressed it softly. “No, only you can, Brienne,” he said softly, “For you have already captured my heart.”

The line might have been corny, but his earnest sincerity had her swooning.

Wistful, she looked up at him, “I wish we could leave Westeros, Jaime. To escape someplace where it could be just the two of us. It is something that I have wanted long before now.”

Having Jaime in her arms, brought the dire reality of the situation to the fore front. She would gladly forget her vow of honor to help all the citizens of Westeros if it kept him alive.

Jaime was momentarily surprised that they shared such a similar fantasy to be alone together and then embraced her close to his chest again, “I too, but that is not your way, Brienne. You would never run when others needed you. It is the same reason why I would never leave you to face this alone.”

Because he was right, she sighed loudly in frustration and rolled her head back and forth on his shoulder. Her voice was muffled when she said, “You are right. I could never go against my vow to rule the realm. I wish I could convince you to leave without me.”

Adamant, he declared, “Never, Brienne.”

“Then what are we to do, Jaime, I am at my wit's end. I will not be their pawn.”

He kissed the top of her head affectionately, “Do not fear. We know it must have been Baelish and his ‘little birds’ that killed the opposition, we just need proof of it.” 

“But you have already investigated and found nothing. Gods, I wish I had evidence about Littlefinger’s culpability up North.”

“Well since we do not, we will have to try something else. Now before I parted from Bronn, I asked him to cozy up to Littlefinger. Knowing Bronn, he will trick Baelish into revealing something that we can use against him.”

Instead of being elated at his brilliance, she felt defeated. She should be joyous but knowing that Jaime could still be ripped away from her at any moment, made her contrary. “Then what about Lady Olenna? Even if we get Littlefinger to back off, what do I do about the Tyrell’s?”

Jaime frowned in contemplation. “Hum, maybe you could work on Olenna. The old bat is fascinated by you. Probably has never met anyone as stubborn as her before. You’ll just have to stall your wedding to Loras as long as possible.”

She pulled back enough so she could see his face, and said earnestly, “But you are the only one I want to marry, Jaime.”

Ecstatic, he could barely contain the pleasure he felt at her words and softly promised, “And I to you.” 

The declarations made their hearts sing. With their spoken promises exchanged, they shared a long kiss that left her feeling lightheaded. 

When she started to droop in his arms, Jaime reluctantly broke off their kiss. He stared into her half-lidded gaze and nodded to himself. “You need to rest, my Queen.”

He ignored her mild protests as he quickly scanned the room, looking for a safe place to sit down. Spying the large cluttered desk, he angled them around it. He had to shove a few things out of the way, but he was finally able to maneuver them behind it. 

Kicking aside some broken objects, Jaime sat on the grimy floor. Looking up at Brienne, he pulled on her hand, but she refused to join him. 

She glanced from the door to him, “I cannot stay, Jaime.”

“It will only be for a moment,” he patted the spot next to him with his golden hand. He smiled sincerely as he continued to tug on her hand. “Come, you can barely stand now, how do you expect to make it back to your chambers like this?” 

Finally, she relented and sat beside him. As he placed his arm over her shoulders and drew her closer to his side, he said, “Relax Brienne. There is no need for either of us to run away just yet. Rest a moment; I will look after you.” 

She smiled sadly, “I wish I could never let you go again.”

“Once I am cleared of the murders and no longer pursued, we will never be apart again. How do you feel about a spring wedding?” 

Brienne chuckled, “I would say that it could not come soon enough.”

As if sealing their marriage vows, they exchanged a chaste kiss. Smiling, Jaime then began nuzzling her ear. He loudly sniffed the shell of her ear and then wrinkled his nose. He pulled back and admonished, “My sweet almost wife, have you been drinking?”

She smirked, “It was part of the disguise.”

As Jaime laughed, a draft of wind blew in from under the door, and Brienne shivered. Jaime hugged her closer, trying to keep her warm. “I see that your disguise did not take into consideration the cold of the approaching storm.”

“This damn castle is so drafty,” she grumbled. 

As he began to remove his surcoat, he chided, “What has become of my warrior maid who survived the harshness of the North?” 

She smiled at his words, but then began to object when he gallantly draped his coat across her shoulders, “Jaime, I will be fine—“

He cut her off, “And I would be neglecting my duties if let the Queen catch a chill.” 

“You are my Hand and soon to be husband, not the Commander of my guard.” Still she shrugged deeper into the heavy coat, and as it warmed her up, she yawned.

Ernestly, he declared, “I will always protect you, my Queen.”

Brienne dreamily replied, “And I will of you as well.”

She snuggled closer, and he hugged her tight, rubbing her arm to help chase the chill away. 

When he had first gone on the run, he had dumped his Queensguard armor first thing. Not only was it bulky and difficult to move in tight places to sneak about, but any light source bounced off it like a beacon. It was also chillier with it on.

Shaking his head, he smiled, for it seemed that with the woman of his dreams in his arms, he was comfortably warm. Pleased, he stretched his long legs out and pulled her against him as he rested his back against the wall.

Her shivers stopped, and she gazed up at him, her stare wistful. “I cannot believe that all my wishes are finally coming true. Your kisses are the healing balm that my soul needed.”

He brushed a stray blonde lock of hair away and grinned mischievously, “Do not be offended, but you look as if you could use more healing.”

Adamantly she nodded, “Yes, more kisses.”

Grinning, he dipped his head, “As my Queen commands.”

Tenderly they kissed and caressed one another, neither wishing for this moment to stop. And even with the specter of death hanging over his head, Jaime was finally content with his life.

*

Just before dawn, Littlefinger barged his way into the Queen’s chambers. He reasoned that the additional hours she slept should be enough time for her head to clear enough to sign the papers. He noticed that Kettleback and Blount snoozed on their feet and that the Queen’s squire was seated next to the regal bed, almost as if he was guarding it.

Ignoring the dozing men, Baelish approached Brienne’s bed. Leaning over the sleeping squire, Littlefinger shook the Queen.

His sudden presence startled Podrick awake, and the squire leaped to his feet with a yelp. 

Baelish glared at Pod but then once more turned his attention to the slumbering occupant in the bed. His honeyed voice whispered to the woman whose back was to him, “Your Grace, enough time has passed. I just need you to sign—“ 

Desperate, Pod tugged on Baelish’s arm, “My Lord, the Queen really needs her rest.” 

Littlefinger glared at the hand that tightly grasped his arm. Pod let go as if it was on fire. 

Baelish stood straight and snapped, “Nonsense, she has slept enough.”

Podrick glanced from the main door and back to the bed. It was nearly sunrise, and he was surprised that the Queen hadn’t snuck back in already. Pod wondered if his mistress had tried to enter but decided against it for fear of being discovered. His mind was foggy from exhaustion and drink, and he did not recall if they had discussed how she was to get back in the room undetected. 

He wanted to rush to the door and yank it open to see if she waited outside, but he dared not leave his post now. Littlefinger was crowding the bed, and he started shaking the Queen again.

Desperate, Pod barked out, “If you need the parchments signed, I should have Lady Olenna paged as well.” 

Thankfully that seemed to distract Littlefinger, but only momentarily. The Lord of the Vale slashed his hand dismissively, “No, she is old and needs her rest.”

Littlefinger’s hesitancy in answering had Podrick frowning. The squire wondered what this conniving bastard was really up to. “My Lord, I insist that you let the Queen sleep until the Maester is able to check on her.”

Seething, Baelish snapped, “Go away boy before I have you whipped for your insolence!” And he shoved Podrick back. 

Frustrated that the Queen would still not awaken or at least turn to face him, Baelish tried pulling Brienne from the bed, but he could not budge her. It seemed that she was grasping the sheets tightly to anchor herself. 

Through gritted teeth, Baelish implored, “Come now, your Grace. You cannot keep putting off the inevitable. I heard how stubborn you are, but this is ridiculous. You will sign these papers, now. Guards!” 

His strident voice woke the guards who automatically grasped the pommels. 

“Get over here and get her out of bed,” Baelish growled out in anger.

Kettleback and Blount stumbled over and between the two of them; they managed to roll the Queen over. It was a minor tussle, and in the struggle, the overly large head bandage tumbled off, exposing the person underneath it. They leaped back in surprise when Beatrice’s son was revealed instead of the Queen.

The scared boy was trying to hide his head under the covers, but it was too late.

Baelish pushed the two stunned guards aside. It took him a moment to register that this was not the Queen and shrieked, “What is the meaning of this?” 

The groggy guards were fully awake now, and they pensively glanced at one another. 

Outraged, Littlefinger bellowed at them, “You two are only fit to guard the latrines!”

Baelish turned on Podrick, and his beady gaze pierced the young squire’s heart, “Tell me where the Queen is.”

Podrick gulped and shook his head obstinately.

Sneering, Baelish snapped his fingers, and the angry guards converged on the cowering squire. They grabbed his arms and Podrick winced from their bruising grip. Seeing his chance to escape, Beatrice’s son quickly rushed from the bed but was tripped by Blount before he could get passed them. The corpulent guard then hauled the petrified boy to his feet and sneered dangerously at him.

“Tell him where the Queen went!” Kettleback snarled menacingly at Pod as he shook him. But Pod was used to being yelled at by a far more formidable Lady Knight and pursed his lips. Kettleback raised his open fist to strike him, but Baelish’s cool tone broke through, “Hold a moment, Ser Kettleback. I have other means of finding our wandering Queen.”

The guards frowned at the calm Lord. The crafty small smile on Baelish’s lips made them flinch, and they were glad it was not aimed at them.

Baelish twisted his thin mustache as he studied the young men, “But what to do with you two—“

Decision made, he nodded to the two guards, “Maybe this will finally get her to do as I bid. Carry on, gentlemen.”

The guards smiled in glee. Now they could finally do what they had wanted for a while now, get their revenge against a Queen who had caused them nothing but trouble. 

Both boys yelled in fright as the knights raised their fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, everyone!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that I did not make Jaime too OC.
> 
> And poor Pod, but don't worry, our boy will be fine in the long run. ;-)


	19. Chapter 19

Along the underside of the curtain above his head, Jaime saw a quick flash of lightning as it bounced against the window’s dirty pane. He then counted as his mother had taught him so long ago.

Hearing the distance rumble of thunder, Jaime relaxed. Good, they still had a few more hours until the storm hit if they needed to make a run for it. But he hoped it would not come to that. Frankly, he was not sure if they were going to get out of this. Besides trusting Bronn to not turn them in for the reward, a lot mattered on if the Lord of Blackwater could convince Littlefinger to confide in him regarding the recent murders. 

Sighing at all the unknowns, he leaned his head back against the wall. 

His disjointed thoughts once more strayed. It was funny; he hadn’t thought of his mother in a long time. Oddly, the emptiness he had felt since she had died did not feel so barren anymore. Even when his sister was with him, he always felt this hollowness in his soul. He wondered if he had been trying to fill that void and thus had found comfort in another family member’s arms. He shook his head. That was certainly not something he wanted to think about now.

He finally had the love of his life asleep in his arms and he did not want this memory tainted by thoughts of his toxic family. He understood that he had a lot of things to work on, but now he just wanted to revel in the warmth and love of the woman held tight to him. All he knew was this felt right and not empty like it had with his sister.

Jaime spied a rat scurrying towards them, and his foot kicked out, knocking it away. With an undignified squeak, it limped off in the opposite direction. Grimacing, Jaime hoped their hiding place was nowhere near the rat’s nest.

The movement caused Brienne to stir in his hold, and he gently rocked her, whispering nonsensical words in her ear. After a brief low groan, she fell back into her slumber. 

Grinning wryly, he knew that he wouldn’t’ trust anyone else to guard his back but her. And he would need her by his side to face the obstacles ahead. Unfortunately, the blow to her head had affected her more than she let on, so he let her continue to sleep.

Carefully pushing a stare lock of hair away from Brienne’s face, Jaime reflected on how much things had changed between them since they had first met. During their time together in the Riverlands, she had kept him alive when all he wanted to do was die from pain and the loss of his identity. Now he could return the favor and Jaime guarded her as was his job and heart. He smiled, pleased that he could be of use to her.

Jaime did not know exactly how long they had stayed in Pycelle’s office; he could only guess that it had been a few hours. If not for the infrequent patrols that did a cursory sweep of the room, he would think it was much earlier than just after dawn. 

Once more he reached above and lifted the curtain’s edge up. Through the grimy glass, he saw that the rising sun tried to poke through the heavy storm clouds, and its muted light barely illuminated the large expanse of King’s Landing.

The violent sounds of the approaching storm crashed closer, and Brienne stirred in his arms, murmuring in her sleep. There was another bright flash, and Jaime shuddered as the bolt struck the distant mountains. He never did like lightning.

Groggily awakening, Brienne’s eyes blinked open and she yawned. Stretching, she realized that she had never felt so safe before. It was one of the best sleeps she had gotten in a long time. She even recalled the entirety of her dream. Usually, she was left with the residue feelings of despair and dread, but thankfully it had nothing to do with her nightmarish time up North.

Actually, it was quite the opposite. This time, she was on Tarth during the spring season, relaxing by the largest most picturesque waterfall on the island. Jaime was there, and their flaxen-haired children chased butterflies in the vast blooming meadow. 

She was resting her head on Jaime’s lap, and he teased her lips with the feathery touch of a flower’s petal. The coy smile they shared was of promises yet to come, and she could not wait for when they could recluse themselves in their bed, away from it all.

Not quite awake, it seemed that her dreams had followed her for she shared a secret smile with Jaime as he grinned down at her.

Staring up at him, she recoiled embarrassed when she realized that she had drooled on his tunic. 

Jaime’s light chuckle of mirth made her relax, and he admonished her, “I am glad to see that you are comfortable, my Queen.”

Exhaling from bliss, she said, “Yes, I think I will make you my official pillow.”

Suddenly, they heard creaking from behind the walls where the secret passage was, the telltale sign that someone was approaching. Jaime tensed.

“What is it?” She whispered urgently.

“The guards. They had recently done a cursory exam of the room, but they seem to be making their rounds again.” He tried to alleviate any concerns by adding, “Maybe because it is dawn, they usually check more during the day.” He was staring in the direction of the hidden panel.

She frowned as she did the calculation. Horrified at the lateness of the hour, she hissed, “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” 

His voice was husky with emotion, “I couldn’t wake you. It’s the most at peace I have ever seen you.”

Though it was a sweet endearment, internally, she cursed. She had stayed too long. She remembered that Pod thought the sleeping draught should last around four hours. She growled frustrated.

Jaime found her grumpiness adorable, especially when she ended it was an enigmatic smile aimed at him. It seemed that he was a pleasant afterthought and she could not stay angry at him, and he cheekily grinned back. 

Brienne said reluctantly, “I best be off before they realize that I am gone.”

As she struggled to sit up, Jaime assisted her. He sighed sadly but understood. “I thought that maybe we should run off instead, after all.”

She smiled miserably, “I would gladly go with you anywhere you wished. But we can’t escape, where would we go that was safe? We have to clear your name and then blackmail the council into leaving us be. That is the only way we can help ourselves and the people of this Kingdom.”

Jaime loved her lack of selfishness and leaned in to kiss her. They suddenly stopped when an overly dramatic loud cough sounded just outside the door of Pycelle’s office.

A familiar voice boisterously stated, “Just passing through, my Lord.” 

Jaime’s heart stopped for a moment. 

Worriedly, Brienne frowned, then whispered, “Is that Bronn?”

Jaime’s gaze darted from the main door back to the secret panel. The shuffling noise behind the wall was getting closer. As an aside he stated, “I told him to keep an eye on you.”

Hearing the murmur of men grouping outside the main door, Brienne and Jaime understood this at the same moment. The guards must be attempting to trap them. They quickly scrambled to their feet. In hopes of beating the cautious guards to it, Brienne began to push Jaime towards the secret panel, “You have to go.” 

“Come with me,” he implored her.

Due to her strength and stubbornness, she was able to drag Jaime to the hidden panel. “No, I will keep them busy so you can get away.” 

Desperate, he grabbed her arm and would not let go. “I couldn’t forgive myself for abandoning you the last time; I certainly won’t now.”

She pried his fingers from her arm. Her voice rose as her emotions warred with what her heart wished. “Yes, you will. Locked up, beheaded, how can you help me if you are dead?”

“If anything were to happen to you—" he husked worriedly.

Touched by his words, she cupped his cheek, “I need you to find proof against the council, Jaime. And I know you will stop them.”

Her words of trust in him made his heart sing, and Jaime nodded, but still, he fought to stay by her side. Brienne pleaded with him, “Don’t sacrifice yourself for an ideal that is meaningless.” She smiled sadly, “And as your Queen, you have to do as I command.”

He stared deep into her eyes, then briskly nodded. “I will free you.” And he kissed her hard, his one hand clutching her desperately. They hugged, and he whispered fervently in her ear, “I love you.”

She squeezed harder and nodded, momentarily unable to speak.

He pressed the top corner of the wooden panel and the secret door sprung open. As he reluctantly stepped through the opening, they heard the guards charge forward and cry out in alarm, “There he is, there is the Kingslayer.”

It was when Jaime began to pull away that Brienne thrust out her hand, fingers grasping in the chilled air, “I love you, too.”

The gleam off his brilliant smile was the last image she saw before he disappeared down the secret corridor, the guards in hot pursuit. 

Enraged at the unfairness of it all, Brienne grabbed the nearest heavy object and hurled the cumbersome chair in the path of the pursuing guards. Suddenly finding this bulky object in their way, the lead soldier tripped over it and crashed to the floor. Soon there was a bottleneck, but the cursing guards were quickly scrambling back on their feet and stumbling after Jaime’s distant form.

Her smile of triumphant changed into a frown when she heard the doorknob behind her begin to turn. It seemed that Baelish was still castigating Bronn, “I am disappointed in you Ser. You would have been wise to have taken my offer. You are lucky that I don’t have you thrown in the dungeons for your betrayal.”

“I assure you—“ Bronn began to protest, but Littlefinger was already shoving the door open.

Brienne steeled herself, ready to fight to buy her beloved more time if needed. So far, the guards in the passage had yet to catch Jaime, so she relaxed, but only somewhat. She still had to deal with what was coming to her and with Baelish, you best not let your guard down.

Once the door was fully pushed open, Baelish stood to the side. Not taking any chances, five burly soldiers rushed into the room, with Ser Kettleback and Blount leading the charge. They made a beeline for her, and all the guards surrounded her.

Grabbing her arms, the two Queensguards signaled the all clear and Baelish strode into the room with more guards following tight behind him. Brienne sneered at his attempt of intimidation. 

As Littlefinger studied her, his guards fanned out to search the chambers. They kicked aside items, stirring up dust, and causing all the rats to scurry to safety, but that was all they found. 

Littlefinger glanced about the room in disdain. Seeing a paper of possible significance, he reached out and touched the old parchment. Instantly he recoiled as oily grim stuck to his fingers. 

Wiping his hand on his robes, he turned his attention to Brienne. Bored he asked her, “Where is he? I know he was here, I heard you talking to someone.” 

Standing tall and imposing, Brienne said, “I was alone.”

Littlefinger smirked, “It is not wise to talk so loudly to oneself, your Grace. Some might believe the rumors are true that you have already gone crazy from the strain of too much power. Do you truly want your legacy to be known as the Mad Queen? Besides, do you normally wear a Lannister surcoat?”

As she automatically touched Jaime’s jacket, a guard poked his head in from the secret passage. After he glowered at Brienne, he said to Baelish, “He’s escaped, my Lord.”

“You fool, he could not have gotten far. Keep searching!” Once more Baelish turned to the defiant Queen. “You should not be out of bed, your Grace. The Maester said you needed your rest.” 

The guards tightened their grip when her hands clenched ineffectually at her side, “I am fine.”

“You must be more careful. You could easily have an accident after your wedding to Loras.” Just to make sure that his threat was clear, he hissed in her face, “You would be wise to never underestimate me again, girl. Don’t think you are safe, just because you are Queen. I have no qualms about having you killed.”

She peered at him shrewdly. “As you did to any who opposed me.”

Baelish would not take the bait, and he only leered. “Since drugging, you won’t get you to comply, we will just have to fall back on old-school villainy. It was my mistake not to rely on your vaulted sense of honor.” He stared up into her angry glare. “Behave, or I will have your squire, the seamstress and her son tortured and then killed before your eyes.”

Brienne stiffened, tensing in the guards hold. Baelish smirked, “They are in enough trouble as it is, your Grace. You do not want to make things worse for them.” 

Reluctantly she nodded her acquiesce and relaxed in the guard’s grasp. 

“Good.” Baelish could not help but goad her, “I should have known that you would care more for others, than yourself.” 

She glowered at him, “Men like you will never know what honor truly is.”

His voice was of mocking disdain, “Of course, you are the stalwart Brienne of Tarth, prevailer of virtue. I knew you were one of those types the first time I saw you in Renly’s tent. You easily proved how gullible you were when you confronted me at the inn to try to steal Lady Sansa away from me.”

“With or without her approval, I should have killed you in Mole’s Town. Especially after what you had done to her.”

He nodded knowingly, “Yes, your honor is a weakness that has never served you well.”

No longer able to rein her anger in, she growled out, “And you are a man stricken with greed, a user, and a coward. You might hold power, but no one respects you.”

Sneering he addressed Kettleback and Blount, “Escort the Queen back to her chambers and make sure she is never left alone. And keep an eye on that squire of hers as well. I will be up shortly to have her sign the documents.” 

Kettleback and Blount tightened their grip on her arms. As they started to ‘escort’ her out of the room, Kettleback mocked, “Let’s go your Highness.”

When they began to drag her away, Brienne wrenched herself free and walked on her own. Proudly she marched out of the room but halted when she spied Bronn leaning against the door jam, eavesdropping. She knew that Jaime trusted him, but the man before her always seemed suspect. When he looked at her, a smirk crossed his features. 

Frowning, she then hissed when Kettleback shoved her in the back. With little choice she continued towards her chambers, the other guards forming a circle around her.

Baelish knew better than to be in arms reach of Brienne and instead took up the rear.

While Littlefinger was deep in thought, Bronn saddled up to him. 

Turning her head, Brienne noticed Bronn’s speculative stare at her and his words to Baelish froze her heart, “I see it has all worked out for you, my Lord.”

Baelish snapped at him, “I thought I told you it would be best if you left King’s Landing immediately.”

The smugness oozed from Bronn’s words, “Come now, I wanted you to find me. I knew one of your little birds was tailing me the whole time. What, you think I wouldn’t notice?” He sounded affronted and pointed to the one that still shadowed him. “Frankly, I am surprised it took you this long to track me down.”

Littlefinger studied him and tilted his head in thought. 

Bronn took this as a good sign and continued, “Of course I was helping Lannister, but only as far as it suited my needs. You must admit that it never hurts to work both sides to one’s advantage. And now I’ve chosen to be on the winning side. Besides, you need a fella like me. Someone to help you do your dirty work.” He emphasized his intent by fingering the prized long sword that was clipped to his belt.

Looking him up and down, Baelish sneered. But he did have a good point. “Fine, come by my chambers later.”

Bronn did one of his halfhearted bows that were this close to arrogance and Littlefinger harrumphed at the insult. 

As the escort marched forward, Bronn stopped at the corner and watched the group continue to Brienne’s chambers.

Alone in the back, Littlefinger beckoned over his page, “Awaken Lady Olenna and that misbegotten son of hers and have them meet me in the Queen’s chambers right away. If she protests, tell her that she will miss out on getting her grandson married to the Queen.” 

When the young boy scurried off to do as he was ordered, Baelish turned down the hall towards his apartment to grab the contracts.

Brienne worriedly watched him split off from her guards. Looking behind them, she saw Bronn rubbing his chin in contemplation. 

Noticing her angry glare, he impudently winked at her. She wished she could somehow get word to Jaime that it was best not to trust Bronn, but she did not know how she could reach him.

*

A short time later, Bronn met with Jaime in the subterranean crypts. Before Bronn could say anything, Jaime strode up to him and roughly grabbed his shirt front. 

Enraged, Jaime shook Bronn hard enough to cause the older man’s teeth to rattle. Jaime seethed in his face, “What the hell are you trying to pull? You knew that Baelish would have you followed. I warned you that he would!”

Bronn shoved Jaime back and straightened his tunic indignantly, “Quit complaining. You were the one who wanted me to get in on his good graces. What better way than to give him the Queen.”

Jaime barely restrained himself from throttling the man, “And me nearly with her.”

Bronn cooed mockingly, “Hardly. I made enough noise to wake the specter of your father.”

Jaime shuddered at the thought, but still glared at the man in front of him.

Bronn shrugged, “Relax, Baelish will not hurt her, not yet at least.” Jaime tensed, and Bronn quickly explained before he got punched. “How else was I going to get him to trust me if I didn’t sacrifice one of you to him? He’d be far to suspect if I approached him with nothing to give. So, I improvised. Besides, it was only a matter of time until they found her anyway.” His knowing gaze studied Jaime’s beat red face, “Don’t tell me you two were thinking of eloping?”

“No,” Jaime said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, then you wanted more alone time with her.” Bronn’s eyes crinkled in delight.

Jaime grumbled, peeved, “Shut up, Bronn.” 

Bronn’s tone perked up, “Well, the good news is that Baelish wants to meet me in a few hours.” 

Sighing, Jaime nodded. “Alright, then what?”

Beaming, Bronn grinned pleased and began to tell Jaime his plan.  
*  
When Brienne first entered her chambers, her gaze quickly adjusted to the darkened room. Only a few candles burned, but she could still make out Podrick’s hunched form seated near her bed. 

Hearing them enter, Pod glanced up sharply in fear. He relaxed when he saw it was Brienne.

She cautiously approached him as he slowly stood up to greet her. She registered that one of his eyes was swollen shut and he clutched his left arm. 

Her voice became husky from guilt and concern, “I am so sorry, Pod.”

“I am alright, mistress.” He grinned proudly and seemed to wear his injuries as a badge of honor. Then his smile faltered when he realized what her coming back with Kettleback and Blount meant. 

It was further confirmed when an irritated Baelish strode into the room and snapped, “Keep to your word and sign the papers, your Grace.”

With her chin sticking determindedly out, Brienne demanded, “Where are Beatrice and her son?”

“In the dungeons, awaiting my word as to their fate.” He motioned impatiently to the contracts on the desk, “Now, your Grace.” 

Exhaling, Brienne did as she was ordered. Spiritless, she signed her name to the first parchment to make Littlefinger her Hand. Once done, Baelish snatched it from the table as if afraid she would change her mind and rip it up.

His grin was huge, and a smug Baelish chortled to himself, “Thank you, your Grace. I will not disappoint you.”

Sighing, Brienne then dipped the stylus in the ink and began to scratch her name on the next sheet of paper, the quill’s loud scraping sound grated on her nerves. Just as she finished signing her marriage contract to Loras, Lady Olenna arrived. The smile Brienne aimed at the older woman was tight, but all she received in return was a disapproving frown. 

Once it was handed to Olenna, the older woman’s haughty gaze glared at Brienne. Her stare ratcheted to Brenne’s stomach and then to the giantess’s guileless blue eyes. She growled out, “My great grand child’s eyes had better not be emerald green.”

Brienne sputtered at what Olenna implied, but before she could deny anything, the Thorn left the room in a huff.

Baelish stared at Brienne, “I take it that I do not need to remind you what will happen to those you care about if you do not do as you are told?” He did not wait for her reply, her downcast gaze said it all, “Good. By tomorrow this storm should have passed, and then you will publically declare me to all as your Hand. During the ceremonies, you will be happy and gracious. Understand.”

She wore a quiet defiant expression, and he sighed, “Your Grace. Accept that you have lost and all will be fine, otherwise—“ He pointedly stared at Podrick.

Her brief nod was curt. She would behave, but reluctantly.

Baelish studied his fingernails, “My dear, you might as well make the best of your situation. Who knows, you might actually enjoy being married to Loras.” 

She did not care anymore about her plight; all she wanted to know was of another’s fate. She thought of Bronn and all they had riding on the man. “And Jaime? What will you do to him?”

“I am afraid that his days are numbered. But maybe if you continue to do as you are told, instead of execution, he will be exiled to Dorne where he will do the most good. His marriage to Ellaria Sand would be the best for the realm.”

Baelish gauged her stricken features and sneered. He turned his attention to Kettleback and Blount, and his sharp stare had them straightening. Nodding to himself, he then strode from the room. 

As the door began to shut behind him, Brienne noticed the multitude of guards that stood sentry outside her door. They would make sure she was not disturbed and any hope for a rescue died quickly.

Enraged, Brienne wanted to throw something, but Kettleback and Blount glared at her sullenly, almost daring her to try it. 

Gods, she hoped Jaime was alright. At least if he were sent away to Dorne, he would live, but like her, he would be a prisoner and a pawn in Baelish’s games. They had to somehow get out of this, but she had no idea what she could do now. She really hoped Bronn had not played them the fools. Suddenly tired, all she wanted to do was sleep. Her usual straight posture momentarily sagged.

Pod tentatively touched her elbow. “Mistress, maybe you care to rest for the time being.”

Without Jaime by her side to keep her distracted, her injuries came to the forefront. Her head throbbed, and she felt exhausted, so she agreed to his suggestion.

As they headed over to the bed, she grimaced when she spied Podrick’s limp.

Before she could apologize for putting him in this position, he pulled the covers to her bed back and whispered, “I have a surprise for you.”

Side eyeing him, she toed off her boots, and slowly got into bed. She did not even bother to change out of her disguise. She drew the surcoat tighter around to her, and she swore it felt as if Jaime was hugging her.

Pod’s eyes reflected pleasure when he told her in sotto, “I have placed baby under the bed.” His eyes darted to her empty bedpost, then back to her as if that would help clue her in.

Brienne scowled at such a cryptic message and then realized that he meant Oathkeeper. She grinned at his nickname for it and smiled in relief. “Ah, so I take it that baby is swaddled and ready for action.” 

“Yes, but now might not be the best time for baby to emerge.” By his tone, it sounded like he had quite a story to tell regarding the adventure in getting it out of the armory. She had no idea how he had done it with such little time and marveled at her squire’s abilities. 

Regardless, Brienne felt better having her weapon so close at hand. She just wished she could help Jaime. Exhausted, she laid back in bed and was soon caught in a fitful dream. This time it was of Jaime’s head on a pike that stared hollowly at her.

*

In the late afternoon, Jaime watched from the shadows as Bronn approached the two guards who stood sentry in front of Lord Baelish’s chambers.

They nodded and allowed him to approach the door. 

Rapping soundly on the thick door, Baelish called for Bronn to enter.

After Bronn walked into the chamber, Jaime settled back in the darkness and hoped for the best.

A sharp bolt of lightning cracked outside a nearby window and then a boom followed shortly that shook the Keep. 

Jaime flinched at how close it was. Shuddering, he realized that the storm was here in more ways than one.

*

Bronn nodded impressed as he took in the opulent surroundings of gilded gold and brightly colored hanging fabrics. “Not bad for a glorified steward.”

Baelish bristled at the comment, “It took me a long time to achieve this power.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure.” Bronn shrugged, uncaring of whose toes he was stepping on, “Still looks like a whore house.”

An enraged Baelish barely steadied his shaking hands at such an insult. He gritted through clenched teeth, “Drink?”

“Sure.” Bronn would never turn down such an offer. But even he had principles and wanted to hurry this meeting along, “So, I heard what you said to the Queen, that you would have no problem killing her.”

Baelish squinted at Bronn, “Just what is your question.”

Bronn shrugged, “I just wanted to know how far you were willing to take this.”

“Why, as far as any man who wanted power. I have watched you, Ser Bronn of Blackwater. You also seem to be someone who would do anything to get what they wanted.”

Bronn sneered, “Yes, you would be correct on that.” He turned to face the large glass doors that lead to the balcony. The light rain had changed in intensity and was now streaking down the glass pane in rivulets.

Baelish finished pouring two drinks and was walking over to Bronn to hand him his, “Then you tell me, Ser Bronn, how far are you willing to go to get what you want? Would you be willing to kill the Queen?”

Before Bronn could reply, there was another flash of lightning, and a large silhouette of a figure was illuminated on the balcony. Bronn just had time to grab his sword before the shape crashed through the glass.

*

Jaime stared at the door, willing for Bronn to exit with good news. Instead, he heard a loud smash and then screams for help and a clang of metal.

The two guards at the door frowned at one another, unsure of what they should do. Jaime instantly acted and raced towards them.

The guards grabbed their weapons, but stared at Jaime quizzically, as if wondering why it wasn’t him in their murdering their Lord.

Jaime barked out, “Get in there, now! Your Lord needs you!”

A man used to giving orders was often obeyed and without thought, and the guards yanked open the doors.

Jaime ran in after them, the whole time yelling over his shoulder down the corridor, “To arms, we are under attack!”

He bumped into the two guards who stilled at what was before them.

Lightning crackled nearby, the jagged pulse of light flashed, and the murderer was revealed for all to see. 

Jaime shoved forward, but then he too stared agog, “No, that isn’t possible.”

Before them stood the imposing armored figure of Ser Robert the Strong, and it was choking the life from Baelish’s struggling form. Littlefinger ineffectually beat on the creatures gauntleted hands that easily encircled his neck. Jaime shuddered in revulsion at the sight of such an intimidating creature.

Jaime had not paid much attention to the monstrosity that had been housed in Pycelle’s office. But now in the light, he could see that its once golden armor had so many blotches of dried blood on it that was a bespeckled molted brown. Upon it, Faith militant blood commingled with the gentries that it had recently murdered. 

Bronn’s prized sword was lodged through its back, but even that could not stop the reanimated vengeful creature. 

Jaime quickly looked about the garish room and spied Bronn lying on the floor unconscious, a gash to his head dribbled blood onto the tiled surface.

More guards rushed in, and they too soon stopped at what they were witnessing.

Jaime was the only one to snap out of it, and he ordered the undead monster, “Release him!”

The animated corpse of Gregor turned its head at Jaime’s command, but he did not release the purpling Baelish. Though it still wore its helmet, Jaime could make out the sunken dead eyes as the creature glared at him as if in accusation.

Jaime sneered and grabbed a lantern from one of the guard’s hands. Just a quick, he chucked it at the corpse. Upon impact, the glass shattered, and the lamp oil coated the creature, and it instantly went up in flames.

The smell of cooked rotted meat caused more than one guard to retch. Even Jaime barely kept the bile down. But it was the raspy otherworldly scream that escaped the armored creature as fire licked under its armor that Jaime swore he would never forget. 

Enraged, it threw Baelish at them and then lumbered out the way it had come in. Ignoring the groaning man at his feet, Jaime and the guards raced after the creature. Surely it was trapped. Dumbfounded, they watched as it lurched over the side of the balcony. 

Now outside, the rain pelted Jaime and the others, their gaze straining to make out if it had survived the fall.

“There!” One of the guards pointed up, and they watched slack-jawed as the now smoking corpse slammed its armored fists into the walls of the castle as if they were only made of mud. With this improvised handhold, it began to climb its way to another section of the castle.

It stopped and glared at Jaime as if in betrayal, and then it pressed onwards.

“It must be going back to Pycelle’s where it was safe.” Jaime hoped that was the case and he dashed back into the room. Rainwater puddled around his feet as another fierce flash of lightning cracked nearby.

As water dripped from him, Jaime stared down in worry at his friend who laid unconscious on the floor. Groaning, a groggy Bronn came too. The older man’s voice came out hoarse from pain, “Don’t just stand there dripping on me, help me up.”

Relieved, Jaime reached down and helped Bronn to his feet. The older man stumbled, and Jaime grabbed his arm to keep him from falling over. Shaking his head to try to clear it, Bronn said, “I thought that bloody thing was dead.”

Jaime just looked at him, and Bronn amended, “Fine, I mean more dead. Why is it even moving?”

A grim Jaime pursed his lips, and quickly deduced, “Qyburn made that thing to protect Cersei, the Queen. It must see Brienne as the Queen, hence why it was murdering any who plotted against her.” 

Jaime shook his head as he suddenly made the connection, “It ceased working once Cersei died. Then when the new monarchy was threatened, it became reanimated. Since its orders never changed, it just continued to do what that killing beast does best, protect the Queen at all costs.”

Heading towards the door, Jaime stepped over the gasping Baelish. Littlefinger reached out a shaky hand and wheezed, his voice a bare whisper, “Help me.”

Jaime sneered, “Help yourself.” And he left the room with all the guards trailing after him. 

Pityingly, Baelish looked to Bronn, but the older knight chuckled, “I’m with him, my Lord.” And Bronn staggered after the others.

Once Bronn caught up with them, Jaime began to trot down the hallway, and he risked a look to his friend. Taking in Bronn’s pale features, Jaime insisted, “Bronn you should stay here until a Maester can see you.”

Bronn cursed, then grinned, “Nonsense, I want my favorite sword back! That damn silver inlay alone cost me a lot of gold.”

Smiling, Jaime nodded quickly, grateful that Bronn was there to help. Together they led the soldiers to Pycelle’s office. 

Once they got to the door, Jaime cautiously opened it. Then with sword drawn, he leaped in with Bronn right behind him, also at the ready. The room was empty.  
Bronn blinked a few times in surprise, “Where in the hell else could it go?”

Jaime realized the other possibility and roared in concern, “Brienne!” 

Without another word, Jaime raced towards the Queen’s chambers. 

Bronn swiveled and followed close to Jaime’s heels. Panting he asked, “Why wouldn’t it go back to Pycelle’s office where it came from. Where it is safe?”

Jaime bit out, “If it fears she is in imminent danger, it will go to the Queen to protect her!” Damn Pycelle and his innate curiosity. 

“Maybe it will just leave the Keep for good.” Bronn sounded hopeful, but Jaime shook his head in denial.

“It was not made to do that. And without Qyburn there to give it new orders, who knows how it will react when it realizes that Brienne is not its true Queen. We can only hope it continues to protect her.” 

Concern overrode all thought as Jaime, and the others dashed to the Queen’s chambers. Jaime prayed to the Seven that they would make it in time to save her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I surprised some of you as to who the murderer was. I hoped it worked and made sense. Am looking forward to seeing what you all think.
> 
> And sorry for another cliff hanger! I am almost done with Chapter 21, so I might be able to publish the next chapter this week (depends on how good I feel about things time wise).
> 
> Thanks again for all your wonderful support! It has really helped make this writing project better.


	20. Chapter 20

Attempting to quell his overwhelming sense of dread, a frustrated Jaime pushed people out of the way as he raced to the Queen’s chambers. He ignored Bronn and the guards who were right on his heels.

Skidding to a stop in front of the royal chamber doors, Jaime couldn’t rein in his distress when he saw that there was no Queensguard’s present. Scarcely waiting for Bronn and the others to arrive, Jaime shoved against the door, but it would not budge. Something heavy was blocking the entry. Fearing the worst, Jaime quickly motioned the others to help him.

The guards added their strength, and they were finally able to shoulder open the door. What greeted them, had most retching. A panicked Jaime did not register the dismembered bodies, frantic only to find Brienne.

His eyes darted about the semi-darkened room. Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning struck near the Keep. It briefly illuminated the room, and Jaime winced at the bloody carnage before him. He prayed she was not among the corpses.

Trying not to slip on the gore slick floor, Jaime stepped over the twisted body of Kettleback. He then carefully trod past the misshaped form of Ser Blount. Jaime’s mind briefly realized that the corpulent knight’s head had been rammed into his torso, but the horror was too much, and he pressed on, desperate to find his beloved.

Over the sounds of the dry heaving behind him, Jaime heard a groan of pain near the Queen’s bed. Disregarding the perilous footing, Jaime dashed past the mutilated bodies and jogged towards the huge broken bay window.   
It appeared that had been the creature’s choice for entry. Closing in, Jaime heard the clatter of heavy rain falling near Brienne’s bed.

That was where he found the crumpled form of the moaning Podrick Payne. As Jaime crouched to one knee, Pod struggled to rise. Instantly, Bronn was by his side, and he helped the squire upright. Podrick was wild-eyed and came up swinging.

“Woah, Woah, lad.” Bronn ducked a fist and shook Pod lightly until he snapped out of it, “It’s us.”

Podrick gasped and stammered, regaining his equilibrium. “Sorry Ser, I - I thought you were that creature,” he mumbled the words and dabbed at his mouth to clear the blood away.

Jaime had to fight the urge to yell at the boy. “Where is she, Podrick?” 

Quickly Pod looked around frantic; then he seemed to deflate when he muttered, “It must have taken her.” 

As servants lit candles behind them, Jaime finally registered the regrouping guards and gauged their numbers. It would not be enough to take out that creature. Hell, he did not know if an entire garrison could even stop the unstoppable.

He ordered them, “You need to track down more guards and as fast as possible. Bring them back here and then we can find our Queen.”

They practically scrambled out of the room. All seemed relieved to escape the bloody carnage that was strewn about the room. 

Once gone, only Jaime, Bronn and Podrick remained. Bronn stayed crouched near Podrick, while Jaime took in the gory mess strewn around him. He paled at what the creature had done to the entire elite Queensguard and shook his head hoping that whatever reinforcements came, that it would be enough. But first, they had to find the creature.

Holding onto any hope he could, Jaime inquired, “Are you sure it took her, Pod? Maybe she got away.”

The lad stuttered his head, and his haunted gaze made Jaime feel uneasy. “No, my Lord. I saw it knock her out.” Podrick tried not to let his lip quiver, but he had never felt this helpless before, not even when Kettleback and Blount wailed on him for helping Brienne escape earlier.

The young squire nearly threw up when he spied the two lead Queenguard’s remains and shuddered at the memory of watching what that creature had done to them. Even they did not deserve such a death.

Jaime refused to ask anything else, too worried about the answer, so Bronn prodded, “What happened?”

Podrick’s gaze became distant as he remembered the nightmare of the creature’s arrival, “That thing crashed through the window. The guards tried to kill it, but it could not be stopped.” He became almost wistful with pride, “But she fought him, even cut off his arm.” Quickly he sobered up, eyes downcast, “It was still too strong, and it knocked her out. I tried to help— “ Pod’s voice stuck, “but he hit me so hard.”

Jaime was pensive and bit his lower lip in worry. He could not stand still. Growling in worry, he stood. “Did you see which way it went?” 

Pod shakily pointed to the wall in the far corner, and Jaime turned. Seeing the location, his heart nearly stopped. Among the dust and pieces of falling debris, a large jagged hole had been smashed through at the same place he had heard the creaking floorboards two nights prior. 

Jaime now knew that it had not been Littlefinger’s little birds that had spied on them that night, but this lumbering creature that was hell-bent on protecting the Queen at any cost. How else would it have known the hateful words that Tarly had said to Brienne and then seek retribution?

Quickly studying the caved in section to the secret passage, it was obvious that the creature had forced its way through the smaller opening. The cracked and broken panel barely hung on the wall, and blocks of stone and other bits of mortar was piled within, obstructing any way through. 

Jaime dashed to the hole and began to shove aside the smaller rocks and stone but had to leap back when larger chunks of concrete began to rain down on him. It was too unstable, and more cement pieces fell, blocking any gaps. Sneering at the cascading rubble, Jaime thought it was as if the creature had thrown itself through to escape.

Frantically he tried once more, but the low ceiling groaned horrifically, and even more heavy stone crashed down. Obviously, it was too dangerous to continue, but Jaime tried anyway. 

Worried for his crazed friend who disregarded the apparent danger, Bronn yelled, “There is no way we are going to get through that.”

A frustrated Jaime spun around and glowered at his friend. Fleetingly, he realized that they could not even dig it out due to the instability. They did not have days to shore up the opening, and Jaime knew that not even a battalion of guards could make it go any faster. Regardless, that passage could go anywhere, and he didn’t even know where it ended. 

Frankly, he had no idea where the creature would have taken her and the longer they waited, the further it got away. Fighting back the panic that wanted to take control, he forced himself to relax, but the feelings of dread continued to assail his mind. Jaime had to fall back onto the discipline that he had learned as a sacred honor guard to royalty. It took a few deep breaths, but he finally relaxed enough to think clearer.

Seeing his friend finally take control, Bronn asked quietly, “You don’t think it killed her?”

Jaime took another calming inhale, and on his exhale, he quickly shook his head. “No, it was made to protect the Queen, not kill her.” But even his strident assurance sounded weak. There was always the chance that the wounded monster could become confused and kill her. 

He recalled that at one time he had joked that Brienne was a Lannister due to the color of her hair, but that was where her similarities to his sister ended. Though he understood it should not hurt her, it was damaged and without its master to control it, quite possibly deranged, too. All the more, time was of the essence. “We need to find her fast.”

Podrick grabbed Bronn’s sleeve, “Ser, it could have taken her anywhere, this Keep is huge.”

Trying not to dwell on the worst possible outcome, Jaime once more paced. The delay was excruciating. He was practically pulling his hair out having to wait for the reinforcements. He was tempted to forget the guards and just hunt for her himself, but they needed men to locate the Queen. Podrick was right; it could have taken her anywhere. 

Podrick struggled to his feet, and Bronn placed a cautionary hand on the lad’s arm, “Careful, boy. You received a nasty knock on the head.” Bronn could not help the concern he felt. He had become protective of Podrick ever since Lord Tyrion had taken the boy under his wing. 

Podrick gruffly replied, “I’m alright, my Lord.”

Bronn’s smile was kind, and he admitted, “Good, I am glad. Honestly, you’re the closest I have ever had to a son. Someone to teach all I know, and I would have been upset otherwise.” 

Since his true father had been horrible, Pod beamed pleased at this, “Thank you for that honor.”

After exchanging a grin with his surrogate father, an adamant Podrick said, “Well, we’ll need the Queen’s sword if we are to beat it.” With Bronn’s help, Pod roughly got to his feet and stumbled over towards the bed. Carefully he shifted through the broken glass, all the while getting more anxious. Finally, he let out a relieved sigh. 

Looking for any signs of hope, Jaime glanced over to the lad. He saw that Podrick was kneeling to grab something by the bed. 

Jaime recognized the shining steel of Brienne’s favorite blade, and he felt heartened when Podrick picked up Oathkeeper. 

Suddenly, something scrambled out from under the bed and Podrick fell backward, screaming.

Instantly, Jaime and Bronn were there and skidded to a halt. What they saw stunned them. 

The arm that Brienne had chopped off the creature was using its stunted fingers to pull itself along the carpet like some sort of ungodly misshaped spider. Some pieces of the plated armor that usually covered the arm was gone, showing patches of burned flesh. Already the skin was beginning to slough off the appendage, revealing areas of darkened bone and twisted tendons. 

In horrified fascination, they watched as the arm crawled towards the caved in wall.

A gruesome thought pushed through Jaime’s mind. In two strides he was next to the arm, and he studied it as it attempted to enter the secret passage through one of the smaller gaps. Though it sickened him to touch it, Jaime grabbed the muscular arm before it could escape and raised it up for closer inspection. The limb was huge, and Jaime marveled at the size and weight of it.

Further examining it, the grasping hand brought back the few nightmares Jaime had of his own decayed hand trying to make its way back to him. 

To look at it better in the cloudy light, Jaime moved closer to the broken window. The further the appendage was taken away from the secret panel, the more it violently thrashed in Jaime’s grasp. Tentatively, Bronn approached, and his grimaced features reflected the same sick fascination that Jaime’s did.

As an experiment, Jaime pointed the hand towards the window and it once more fought to be free. It seemed to relax somewhat when Jaime aimed it at the creature’s escape route. Settling back on his heels, Jaime grinned.

Bronn’s voice was husky with dread, “You don’t think— “

Jaime’s excited voice answered, “Yes, it’s trying to find its way back to its owner!” If the situation had not been so dire, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Shaking his head, Bronn took a step away from the clenching hand, “This is insane. How can that thing still be moving? Hell, the damn creature should have died when I pierced that fucker through the heart.”

Shrugging, Jaime thought out loud, “Maybe it is all due to supernatural magic, who knows. Pycelle tried to figure it out and looked what happened to him.” He further inspected the flexing, agitated hand. “Whatever it is, something makes it yearn to be connected with its body. Probably what holds it together and why it is so difficult to kill. That’s how it survived your death stroke.” 

Jaime shook his head as he continued, “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. If the creature’s entire being is animated, then that means that the whole thing needs to be destroyed at once. Otherwise, it will just continue to pull itself back together.”

Grinning, Jaime gripped tighter to the fidgeting limb and began to stride from the room. He figured once they were in the corridor, it should point them in the right direction. “Come, I think I have found our means to lead us to our Queen.”

Bronn muttered, “And I thought court life would be dull.”

Leaning over, Bronn went to grab Oathkeeper from Podrick, but the lad solemnly shook his head. “It is my duty to look after her blade, Ser.”

Slightly put out, Bronn hid his coveted desire for the magnificent blade with a flourished hand gesture, “Be my guest. You carry the heavy fucker.” But he seemed envious not to be able to hold the much-revered blade. 

After observing this exchange with a tight smile, a determined Jaime led Bronn towards the exit.

Now with a purpose, a resolute Podrick hefted Oathkeeper and followed close behind them.

After cautiously stepping over the bodies and through the slippery gore, they were about to exit, but an approaching commotion stopped them at the door’s threshold. Suddenly, Lady Olenna’s retinue of personal guards barged in with the Thorn and her son Mace trailing behind them. These guards blocked any chance of escape. 

Jaime noticed that Loras was among them and was quietly observing from the back of the group.

Olenna and Mace pushed their way to the front and then glanced around the room in horror. Shocked, Olenna’s shaking finger pointed at Jaime, “Stop that murderer!” 

As her guards converged on Jaime, Bronn and Podrick protested, “But he is innocent, he didn’t do this!” Ignored, they were shoved out of the way. 

An insistent Jaime stated quietly, “I did not kill these guards, nor the others.”

Loras interjected, “We should hear what he has to say.”

Olenna hissed at her grandchild, and once more turned her back on him.

Outnumbered, Jaime seethed as he the guards moved towards him, cutting off any chance of escape. They did not have time for this. Gods know what that creature was doing to Brienne. Jaime snarled, “Let us pass. The Queen is in danger, and I have to save her.” 

“She is safer without you anywhere near her, you murderer.” Mace sneered, for once showing a backbone. He flinched when Jaime took a threatening step towards him.

Barely containing his fury, Jaime tried to sound reasonable, but all he wanted to do was dash from the room. Instead, his voice was a low snarl of anger, “Listen you, overgrown man-child. Robert the Strong is the killer, and he has her.”

Mace scoffed at such words, “Robert the Strong. Are you insane?”

Olenna snorted, “What a ridiculous notion. That creature is standing motionless in Pycelle’s office.”

“What, this motionless creature?” With an evil sneer, Jaime showed them the decaying arm. The agitated hand was frantically trying to get loose, and the Tyrell’s paled at the sight of it. 

“This is sorcery!” Olenna crooned horrified.

Still, her guards would not back down. It seemed that the sight of the creature’s animated arm had them reacting like aggravated bees and they pulled free their blades. Taking a defensive step back, Jaime doubted that the decomposing appendage was durable enough to survive being used as a weapon. Besides, they needed it to find Brienne.

As the guards advanced, Jaime recalled some words of wisdom that his father had once said. When one was outnumbered, bluff. Jaime stood tall. “All of you had best get out of my way before I have you arrested for treason.” His studied gaze stared at the Tyrell’s, “A matter of fact, I need you both to go back to your rooms until you can be brought to trial.” 

The Tyrell’s gasped at his accusations, and Olenna’s guards surrounded Jaime’s small party, ready to fight for their Lady. The numbers did not look good for the three of them to survive the onslaught.

Still, Jaime would never back down, not when his Queen was in trouble. He glared at Olenna and accused, “The fact that you drugged and threatened the Queen should have you both losing your heads.” 

Olenna’s guards looked at her in concern. They did not wish to be culpable to any collusion, especially against the Queen. An indignant, Olenna sputtered, “You have no right to talk to me like that.” 

Jaime then knew he had her. “As Hand to the Queen, I do.”

Shaking her head in denial, Olenna refuted his claim, “You were never properly – “

He grinned, actually enjoying this. “Fine, then as the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, you are hereby charged with attempting to usurp the throne.” Jaime confronted Mace, “I also owe you for striking the Queen.” 

Jaime raised the massive rotting arm at Mace threateningly. “And it looks like I am not the only one who wants vengeance against you for hitting her.” 

The older Lord swooned as the creature’s fist shook at him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. No one stopped his fall when Mace fainted.

Stepping over her unconscious son, an outraged Olenna sneered, “Jaime Lannister, how dare you act in such a manner? Have you no sense of decency?”

Jaime could not stop himself from waving the flexing grey fingers at Olenna, “It has Brienne. I do not have time for any pleasant back and forth banter with you, my Lady. Now, will you get out of my way?”

As she stubbornly glared at him, she then smiled. Jaime flinched at such a sight. Olenna said pleasantly, “There are still more of us than you, Ser Jaime. How can you possibly believe that I would ever let you—”

Suddenly, the guards Jaime had sent out arrived with others, including the old Queensguard that Brienne had recruited herself. They crowded behind the Tyrell’s and Olenna’s smaller group of protectors. The multitude of them far outnumbered the Thorn’s escort.

Captain Starling was among them, and he stood tall, “We heard the Queen was in danger and have come to help.”

Jaime beamed, “Good man.” 

“I want to help as well.” Loras’ usual meek tone sounded emboldened, and he stepped forward. His grandmother grunted in anger but remained silent.

Jaime nodded his thanks and said to Olenna cockily, “Well my Lady.” 

“This is not over young man,” Olenna stated indignantly, but she had no choice but to let Jaime past. 

“No,” Jaime’s solemn tone promised retribution, “it is not. I expect you to stay in your chambers and not try to escape.”

Olenna looked as if she was about to spit nails but nodded abruptly instead. Though things did not look good for her, this was not the first time she faced insurmountable odds against her.

Jaime addressed a few of the Keep’s younger guards that he knew were still in training, “After you have escorted the Tyrell’s and their guards back to their apartments, you are to make sure that Littlefinger stays in his chambers. Out of all of the council members, he is the one most likely to try to escape, and if he burrowed into the safe confines of the Vale, we’d never get him out.”

After those guards rushed off to do as they were ordered, Jaime turned to the Brienne’s Queensguard and the remaining soldiers, “Come, the Queen needs us.”

The guards and Loras nodded determinedly.

All follow Jaime who then used the energetic dismembered hand as a bloodhound to track down his beloved. 

*

The last half hour of following the hand’s directions seemed interminable. And Jaime wasn’t the only one losing his patience. Bronn and the others would sigh tiredly whenever they had to turn around and retrace their steps.

Jaime had no idea why this was happening and worried that he had misjudged the reliability of using this hand as a tracker. He could not imagine how the creature was able to continuously change his location without being spotted by someone. He hoped the hand did not indicate the erratic behavior of its owner as well.

Lightning flashed through a nearby window, and Jaime winced at the sudden sharp brilliance. The storm would be upon them at any moment. 

Jaime felt the mild tingle around the stump of his right arm. He had to be wary of his metal hand and lightning. Though he doubted it would help all that much, he made sure to keep the thick glove always covering his golden hand.

As the thunder loudly shook the Keep, another party of nobles fearfully slipped past Jaime and his entourage. Most still perceived him as being the killer, and he was sure the animated appendage he held was quite the sight. But Jaime ignored them, his focus only on following this accused hand.

The thing reeked of decay and Jaime swore that pieces were slowly falling off it. Hopefully, they found Gregor soon before the hand had been reduced to bone. At least it left a trail of crumbling flesh in its wake, so Jaime could tell where they had been.

Rounding the corner, he had to backtrack once again because the disembodied hand frantically pointed in the opposite direction. Jaime remembered passing this same suit of armor and suddenly stopped. Maybe the creature wasn’t pacing back and forth but instead was somewhere the hand could not specifically indicate. 

He looked up and grimaced. There was a reason he recognized these corridors and nearly slapped himself for being so stupid. He liked to blame his panic and exhaustion, but he should have put it together sooner. Irritated at himself, Jaime growled, “I know where it is.”

A small laugh of relief escaped the pale Bronn. He looked like he was about to pass out from his injuries, and he leaned against the wall. As he dabbed at his sweating forehead, “Well don’t leave us in suspense.”

Jaime looked at his friend in concern. The beating he had taken from the creature earlier was taking its toll on him, “It is at the tallest rampart, back where it had killed Pycelle and my Uncle.”

Bronn frowned and shook his head in disbelief, “It went back to the scene of the crime? Well, why in the hell would it do that? It can be easily trapped with no way out.”

“It could try to escape via the secret passage,” Pod said helpfully.

Already lost in thought, Jaime turned to lead them down a different hallway. 

Sighing loudly, Bronn rolled his eyes at Pod who smirked. Pod moved the support Bronn, but the older man waved him off. “I’m fine, lad. Just need a good drink for fortification.”

Jaime impatiently waited for the group to catch up to him.

Bronn stopped Jaime from racing off again by grabbing his arm, “Why would it go there, though.” An adamant Bronn needed to know. “Why not try to escape out of the city with her?” 

A frustrated Jaime yanked his arm free and growled, “I have no idea why it would stay here. I told you it is not thinking clearly. Qyburn is dead, so it cannot get new instructions, but this is the Queen it has been ordered to protect. Maybe it is drawn to the familiarity of that area.” 

Bronn still refused to budge. 

Barely containing his impatience, Jaime said, “I don’t know why it’s being erratic. This proves that all the more it cannot be trusted around Brienne.” He could not let anything happen to his Queen. His love.

“But maybe that hand is just twitchy, and that monster is long gone.” 

An anxious Jaime got in Bronn’s face and whispered desperately, “Bronn, we have to find her, and this is our only hope to do so.”

His eyes darted about Bronn’s face, gauging his reaction. Sighing, the older lord raised his hands up in surrender. “Fine, we will do this your way.”

Nodding quickly, Jaime strode down the disused corridor for a few steps and then stopped at an intricately carved wooden panel. He needed a free hand to pop it free, and he looked around not knowing what to do with the creature’s flailing appendage. Jaime smiled pleasantly at Podrick and then attempted to pass it off to him.

The boy ducked back and smirked, “Well I can’t. This sword is heavy, and I need both my hands to hold it.”

So Jaime offered it to the disgusted Bronn. With a grimace, the older lord took it. Holding the arm as far away as possible, Bronn grumbled, “I better get two castles and an estate.”

Jaime tapped hard on the corner of the panel, and it sprung open. Nodding to himself, he studied the dusty corridor before him. Taking the limb from Bronn, he pointed it into the secret corridor. The hand indicated for them to go to the left.

Jaime turned to the Knight of Flowers, “Loras, you lead half of the men to the ramparts via the normal route. The rest of us will take the secret passage. Above all else, it cannot be allowed to escape with our Queen.”

Loras curtly bobbed his head in agreement. Though it was a safer job, it was just as important. He appreciated that he could be of use. “We will not let it get past us, my Lord.”

Determined, Loras’ group of soldiers nodded and silently rushed off in the opposite direction.

Smiling in gratitude, Jaime gestured, and the Queensguard followed close behind as he entered the secret passage. Bronn and Podrick shared a wan look and took up the rear of the party.

Holding the beckoning hand in front of him to lead the way, Jaime silently prayed that they would not be too late to save Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments and support for this story. Everyone has been so great!
> 
> I will publish Chapter 21 on Monday. Chapter 22 is the epilogue, but I just have notes on that for now, so I will try to publish that as soon as I can (might take a week or two to write it out though)
> 
> Thanks again!


	21. Chapter 21

A groggy Brienne awoke, shivering from the cold. The pelting rain was revitalizing, and her befuddled mind began to piece together where she was. Registering that the wall beside her was crowned with iron ramparts, she realized that she was on one of the Seven Towers of the Red Keep. Already the inundation of rainwater had darkened the normally pink color of the stone to a blood red.

Confused, Brienne frowned through the deluge, wondering why she was there. Then she spied the massive creature standing protectively in front of her, its armored back to her. Slowly the events that had occurred, all came back to her. At first it was remembered as snippets, but then the memories solidified.

With a shudder, she recalled an enormous shape suddenly crashing through the large bay window by her bed, spraying glass upon her and Podrick. As they flinched, Kettleback and Blount were only momentarily stunned at the sight of the rotting armored giant. Quickly they sprang into action. Alas, it seemed that each had a different intention.  
Sword raised, Kettleback charged the creature, while Blount turned tail and fled to the door.

By now Brienne and Podrick had scrambled to their feet but stayed where they were as they viewed what unfolded before them. Their shocked astonishment seemed to have kept them glued to the floor.

Brienne stared aghast and watched horrified as the behemoth used its large arm to easily block Kettleback’s swung sword. It then grabbed Kettleback two-handed and raised the screaming knight over its head. In seconds, it brought the struggling man down hard across its raised knee, snapping Kettleback’s spine in two. Effortlessly tossing the dead man to the side, it then turned on Ser Blount.

The panicking corpulent man fumbled to open the only exit, but his fingers shook too much to be able to turn the door knob. Having run out of time, Blount beat ineffectually on the door, the whole time yelling for help.

Robert the Strong rumbled a mocking laugh and in two strides, was behind Ser Blount.

When Blount felt the ominous presence looming over him, he spun around to face the creature. Suddenly, his high-pitched scream was silenced when the monsters clasped hands slammed downwards, ramming most of Blount’s head into his torso. 

Finally, the shock had worn off, and Brienne and Podrick leaped into action. 

Though she was grateful she had not changed her clothes, being barefoot wasn’t prudent. There was too much broken glass to walk on safely. While she quickly slipped on her boots, Pod grabbed Oathkeeper from under the bed. She nodded to him when he handed it to her. This is what he had been trained to do.

Hefting the heavy blade, Brienne felt stronger, more in control than she had all night. It was the embodiment of her and Jaime combined.

As she moved to confront the creature, the front door burst open and the remaining Queensguards ran in. They stopped at the sight of the creature that stood over those he had brutally murdered.

Brienne did not know much about Robert the Strong. Only that he had once been a formidable fighter prior to being made into this ruthless, unstoppable killer by the ex-Maester Qyburn.

She charged it just as the Queensguard did. The creature hurled a chair at her, causing her to jump out of the way and further from the action.

Then ignoring her, the creature pulled its blade free from its sheath and then effortlessly dispatched her entire guard. It was deceptively fast with its moves and blows, proving it to be an efficient killer. There was a sword lanced through its back, but even that would not slow it down.

As it chopped its last assailant in two, its back was still turned away from Brienne. This afforded her a chance to attack, so she lunged.

Normally, she would have waited to strike until it faced her. It was the honorable thing to do, but in this instance, this would probably be the only way she could get close enough to kill it, so she swung her sharp blade, aiming for its head. 

As if sensing the weapon, the creature twisted away, and Brienne tried to compensate in mid-swing. Alas, due to the change in the angle of her hit, the sharp blade bounced off its helmet and instead bit deep into the seam between the armor of its right shoulder. Her blade was sharp, and Oathkeeper continued its cut, quickly cleaving off its sword arm. The armor-plated appendage crashed loudly to the floor.

She would have thought losing an arm would have caused one’s opponent to stop, gasp, and perhaps die from shock and blood loss. But it did not even phase it. There was no shooting out of crimson, only a grating sound of its hoarse breathing.

Without missing a beat, the corpse sprang towards her, and before she could react, it slammed its helmet into her unprotected head.

She was suddenly blinded by the pain and the strength of its hit. Stunned, she collapsed to her knees.

As she continued to fall bonelessly onto the carpet, she heard Podrick yell as he was thrown across the room. Beginning to lose consciousness, Brienne fleetingly thought that getting hit in the head so many times was probably not healthy.

Then darkness surrounded her vision and she passed out.

Now propped up on her elbow, she worried about Pod and prayed to the Seven that he still lived. 

Tentatively she touched the tender knot on her forehead and grimaced. At least this time she did not feel dizzy from the blow to the head. Glaring up at the creature in front of her, Brienne’s teeth started chattering. The surcoat that Jaime had given her in Pycelle’s office was already soaked through. 

She had to get out of there, and she struggled to her feet. Snarling, the creature turned and easily shoved her back down.

Behind the helm, the brute’s red eyes stared down at her. It growled, “Stay.” 

Obstinately, she once more tried to stand, but it pushed her back down. Too tired to fight him anymore, she rested on the wet stones, staring up at the dispassionate being.

Frustrated, Brienne thought that there had to be a way out of this. She just had to think this through. First, she needed to take in her surroundings. Though knowing she was at one of the Seven Towers of the Red Keep, she was unsure of which one.

From her angle, she could not see far through the curtain of rain, but it seemed that they were above the other towers. That meant they must be on the tallest of the seven massive drum turrets. The creature had her tucked in the corner, so she could not escape past him, and no one could sneak up behind them. That meant that she was trapped in a dead end that buttressed the tall conical shaped tower. She would have tried to hop over the wall beside her, but then she would have plummeted to her death.

Glancing up, she saw the towers tiled roof, slick from the rain. Red terracotta shingles covered the cylindrical spire that was perched atop it. And at its highest point, a thick metal crooked weather vane stood ready to attract lightning.

Hearing the approaching lightning storm, Brienne did not think this was the best location to be at. 

Ineffectually wiping away the rain from her eyes, she vaguely recalled the report Jaime had done when he had been investigating the death of his Uncle and Pycelle. Closing her eyes, she saw the image of the towers schematics. Supposedly the secret passage should be on the other side of this turret.

Now that she had determined where she was, she had to figure out how to defeat the creature or at least get it away from King’s Landing. It would certainly kill anyone who tried to help her escape. And who knows when the creature would become unbalanced and kill innocents. 

Calming her anxiety, she once more fell upon her training. Always gauge your opponent’s weaknesses and strike upon those things. But by the size of him, he would be difficult to overpower. 

Maybe she could grab the sword out of its back. She eyed the short stump of where his right arm used to be. Then what, obviously chopping the creature apart wouldn’t stop it. That meant she would have to outthink it.

Frowning, Brienne knew that it was protecting the Queen regardless of the cost to itself or to others. That must have been its last orders. So maybe it would still listen to the Queen. “I order you to let me leave.” Surely, she has some power over it.

Turning to face her, it stubbornly husked, “Protect, Queen.”

“Can you protect me from pneumonia?” She snapped angrily.

It ignored her comment and stared impassively at her.

Tiredly, she insisted, “But I am not Cersei.” It was probably not wise to admit this, but Brienne was getting desperate. The longer they stayed here, the bigger the chance the guards would find them and get killed.

At the mention of Cersei, its gaze became far off. Softly, it said reverently, “Protect, Queen.”

Frustrated, Brienne kicked its leg to get the creature's attention. The thick muscle hardly moved. “As your Queen, I order you to release me.”

Suddenly, it sneered down at her. The malice oozed from his red-eyed glare. Livid, it growled, “Protect, Queen.” Hostile, it pivoted away to once more guard her.

Taken aback by the sudden change in its demeanor, Brienne quieted. That was not what she was expecting. Did it maybe hate her? Then it suddenly dawned on her. No, just what she represented. I am not her. I am not his Queen. The one he was specifically made to protect. She was not Cersei.

Whatever was left of Clegane might have resented this continued order of protection. She then realized that he probably never had asked for this ‘honorable’ position in the first place. Whatever spell that compelled it to protect her, superseded all of Gregor’s free will. 

Obviously, regardless of what power she wielded as Queen, the creature could not go against its old orders of defending her. But how could it expect to survive to carry out these orders if an entire garrison of soldiers attacked it, especially since it only had one arm? Unless that was its plan the whole time. It wanted to make this its last stand. Her mind halted at this thought. Did it want to die?

Did it miss Cersei, his true Queen? He had been at peace once Cersei had died but had been forced to come back to life when the new Queen needed his protection.

The more she thought along those lines of reasoning, the more she believed that was what was probably motivating the creature. If it could not go against its pledge, maybe it was trying to manipulate the compulsory order and circumvent this vow. That might explain why it brought them to a location that they could not escape from. Eventually, it would be killed. 

Was that it? Was this his wish? To cease to exist since his former Queen was no longer alive. 

This would be risky, but if it killed her out of spite, then maybe it would stop working once more. But she rather hoped that she was right. “Clegane! Clegane! Listen to me.” The creature turned and scowled menacingly down at her. After swallowing loudly, Brienne continued, “As Queen, I can find you the best scholars that will figure out how to put you to rest permanently. Then you can be with your true Queen."

His glare seemed to soften for a moment. Then either his training or the spell reared back up, and he was once more under its control. “Only I can protect you.”

By how adamant its declaration had been, she feared how many more would have to die so it could finally be at peace.

The weather was getting worse. There was another sharp crack and the lightning struck a lower tower. The storm was going to be upon them at any moment.

Suddenly, the sound of movement behind the creature drew her attention and then everything changed.

*

Moments earlier, Jaime cautiously poked his head out of the secret passages opening. He sighed in relief that nothing nasty was waiting for them. He had feared that the creature would be right outside the exit. Alas, this just caused a different sort of anxiety to reign free. Frankly, if the hand hadn’t been reacting so violently, he would have worried that he had miscalculated the location of the creature.

Looking across to the entrance to the ramparts, he saw that Loras and his group were tucked in the stairwell, awaiting instructions. Jaime signaled for them to stay back.

He and his group would be the first wave to attack. He prayed that they would not need the additional reinforcements.

After his entire party had made their way out of the passage, he had them halt.

Thankfully the pelting rain disguised the sound their movement made. Captain Starling and his men were good soldiers, but they were used to charging into battle so trying to move silently was not their specialty. It also did not help that the continuous rain made everything slippery and the armor that they wore made more noise than Jaime carried for. He winced when the guards loudly bumped into each other. Obviously, they were nervous, but Jaime had to give them credit for reacting better than he thought others would have.

Bronn and Pod made their way to the front and stood with Jaime. All three looked at one another, hoping for a clue of what to do next.

Because of the fierceness of the storm, Jaime was soaked instantly. He had not bothered to replace the surcoat he had given to Brienne with any armor or even a cape. 

Signaling with a jerk of his head, Jaime led them all forward. Warily, he followed the disembodied hand’s frantic motions and crept around the corner. There was a flash of lightning, and it illuminated the creature who stood protectively in front of Brienne.

Bronn excitedly whispered, “Hey, my sword’s still in its back.” He had been afraid his prized weapon had been lost.

Jaime saw Brienne shivering, and he was relieved that she was still alive. Through the heavy rain, he saw that she was talking to the creature, no doubt trying to reason with it. He thought pleased, good, keep it distracted, Brienne. They would only get one chance at this and with it only having one arm; they might be able to stop it.

Lightning swiftly crackled downwards, hitting one of the nearby towers. Any moment now, the massive storm would be directly overhead.

Suddenly, the decaying arm that he held twisted and violently moved in his grip. Jaime brought his golden hand up to try to keep it stable. Alas, with the inundation of rain, the appendage had become slippery and it easily leaped from Jaime’s grasp. He tried to grab it as it fell free but could not do it one handed. Before Jaime could stop the limb, it quickly scrambled to its master. 

It almost sounded as if the creature did a triumphant chuckle as it scooped up its arm. Without hesitation, it rammed the bony end into his shoulder socket and twisted it back and forth as if it was screwing it back in.

Jaime marveled in wonder when the once disembodied arm flexed, and the fingers curled as if it had never been gone in the first place. 

Staring at the ‘re-armed’ creature, Jaime felt his stomach clench.

Now two-handed, the creature would be truly formidable. Any chance of stopping it evaporated and Jaime sneered at the lost opportunity. That’s what he got for not reacting as quickly as he usually would have.

He turned to Pod and took Oathkeeper from him. “Stay here, lad.” He nodded to the others in his group, “Ready?”

As they bobbed their heads that they were, Pod whined, “But I want to help.”

Adamant, Bronn ordered, “You heard him, boy. Stay here.” Smirking, he indicated to Jaime that he too was ready.

Having lost the element of surprise, Jaime gave the signal, and they all charged the creature. 

Feet firmly planted, the creature stood at the ready, arms raised to defend. It roared in triumphant as the guards faced it. Even with it weaponless, the guards were hesitant to rush in. 

On Jaime’s signal, the fight began.

Instantly five guards took turns attacking the creature. When one fell, another took its place. 

Jaime and Bronn would duck in and slice, only to retreat when Gregor turned its attention to them. But even Jaime saw that the creature was hardly affected by their assault. As another guard screamed when his arm was ripped from his body, Jaime did a quick calculation. At this rate, they would run out of guards too soon. He shook his head, but that did not matter. They had to make a stand and destroy it, even if it cost Jaime his life. He would not lose another that he loved due to his incompetence. 

Once more he lunged.

*

At first, Brienne cheered when she saw Jaime leading Captain Starling and the others into attacking the creature. Her relief was short lived as she watched the creature effortlessly dispatch them as he had done to the guards down in her chambers. Even without a sword, it was unstoppable.

Brienne now understood that even if the creature wanted to die, it could not go against its compulsory orders and give up. It would fight to the end, and more than likely it would be the men who had volunteered to protect her that would die first. She saw Jaime once more wade into the battle, Oathkeeper swinging. 

Through the deluge of water, she noticed Pod stuck in the back, away from the fighting and she was relieved that her squire was alive. But that feeling of comfort would be over quick if she did not do something soon. This creature had already caused so much misery.

After Gregor swatted aside another swing from Oathkeeper, it violently shoved Jaime back. Now all the remaining guards in Jaime’s party joined the melee. When those began to dwindle, Loras and his group of men suddenly charged into the fray. Even though they all fought at the same time, the way it was beating them down, none of them would stay alive for much longer.

Brienne could not let them die over this. She could not watch any more sacrifice themselves to save her. She realized that she had to take the battle somewhere else, but there was nowhere to go, she was trapped behind this behemoth creature. Lightning flashed, and it struck so close to their tower that the Keep violently shook.

Instantly her gaze locked on the tall metal rod above and she knew what she had to do.

Standing, she then grabbed onto the metal bars that were on top of the brick wall beside her, and she pulled herself up onto the ramparts. Cautiously maneuvering about so she could reach the tiled roof, her foot nearly slipped. The wind suddenly whipped around her, nearly knocking her from her precarious perch.

She tried not to look over the edge, but a perverse side of her could not stop herself. The ground seemed to pulse up at her as a bout of vertigo overwhelmed her. Gulping, she forced herself to take deep breaths. She could not risk panic; especially now. The rain coated everything making it all slippery. 

Grateful as always for her long reach, she was able to grab the edge of the tiled roof.

Before the creature could notice what she was doing and stop her, she hoisted herself up onto the rain-slick tiles.

Pretending to be a crab, she crouched low as she began to scuttle upwards, aiming for the weather vane.

Jaime had been so busy trying to defeat Clegane that he had lost sight of Brienne. He suddenly noticed her as she crawled further up the slippery tiled roof of the tower.  
Jaime cried out from worry, “Brienne, no!!!!” 

Hearing his desperate cry, the creature stopped attacking and spun. 

Jaime heard its growl of frustration as if tracked Brienne’s movement. In two steps, it was below the tower, and then it began to climb the wall and then onto the edge of the roof. The wind and rain were fiercer this high off the ground, and it was even stronger up on the tower's crown.

The creature did not care about safe footing, once more relying on slamming its hands through the terracotta tiles to get purchase. It’s damaged caused many shingles to come loose, and Jaime and the others leaped back as large pieces rained down on them. The roof was becoming further unstable with every hit of the creature’s large fists.

The creature clambered after Brienne, who had now reached the tall metal lightning rod. With no choice, she began to shimmy up the pole.

The guards did not know what to do and looked to Jaime for direction. The crumbling towers roof could not hold all their combined weight.

Jaime shoved forward and tossed Oathkeeper to Bronn. “If I don’t make it, it’s yours, friend.”

Bronn grinned, “It’s nice and all, but I would much prefer a castle or two.” 

Jaime smirked, and his nod included Podrick. “Look after the boy,” was his last command before he pulled himself upon the wall and then scrambled up the side of the tower.

Watching Jaime carefully navigate the roofing tiles one handed, Bronn warned him, “You’ll get fried!”

He pointedly looked at Jaime’s golden hand, and Jaime sneered, “Then so be it.”

And he scurried after Brienne and the creature. 

Nearing the top of the tapering metal pole, Brienne could not go any higher. Due to the creature’s weight, it had to stop at the base of the rod or risk knocking it over. Gregor was just out of arms reach of her foot. 

Pensive, Brienne glanced down and saw Jaime just below the creature. With only one hand to hold onto, Jaime resorted to hitting the tiles nearest the creature’s feet with his golden hand, trying to punch a big enough hole for the hulking creature to fall through. It would have worked too if Gregor hadn’t kicked a broken piece of tile at him. The clay shingle crashed onto Jaime’s head. Stunned, he suddenly found himself slipping towards the edge of the roof. 

He barely stopped himself in time before he was pitched off the roof to fall to his death below. Panting, he wiped the blood away as he glared up at the creature, “That’s all you got Clegane. Why don’t you face me instead?”

Worried, Brienne yelled to Jaime, “Get back! He’ll kill you!”

Determined, Jaime once more began to climb, “I am not leaving you alone with him, wench!”

Brienne said obstinately, “I know what I am doing.”

Through gritted teeth, Jaime jeered, “Yes, I can see that.”

While they bickered, the creature nearly grabbed Brienne’s foot. Sneering she kicked out and managed to knock off the creature’s helmet. Her earlier hit by Oathkeeper to it must have loosened the straps. 

As it reeled from the hit, she stomped both feet onto its head, and the creature’s grip slipped free. Quickly it slid down, and only by ramming its fist through the roof to make a hold was it able to stop. Alas, now it found itself face to face with Jaime. The creature’s gray features leered menacingly at him, and it brought its massive hand up to strike.

Horrified at how everything was going sideways, Brienne screamed, “NO! Don’t hurt him, Gregor!”

The creature halted its fist and seemed momentarily conflicted. But then it snarled in anger and swung. Jaime slid down just in time, and the creature’s large fist barely missed his head.

Stopping near the edge, Jaime tried to make it see reason. He had to yell to be heard over the raging storm, “Stand down, Clegane. I am the Queen’s protector, not you.”

Along with hostility, there was sadness in its mournful red eyes, “No, you failed sister.”

Stunned, Jaime stared at the creature simmering eyes. Outrage overrode the emotional pain that reared up at the mention of his dead sister. Jaime growled out, “And why weren’t you there to stop her from killing herself?!”

It took an effort to do so, but the creature grunted, “Why weren’t you?” 

Floored, Jaime realized that the creature had loved his sister. Maybe as much as Jaime had. It seemed that he and Gregor held a common bond, the guilt over losing someone they loved because they had failed to protect them.

Jaime faltered as his guilt assailed him. All of Jaime’s insecurities rose to the surface from the creature’s accusations.

Dangerous thoughts overwhelmed him. How could he hope to save Brienne when he could not stop any of his loved ones from dying? Maybe he should just fall and let this creature protect Brienne. It had done better than he had when it had killed the traitorous Pycelle and his Uncle. Jaime could never have done that.

This time Jaime did not shuffle out of the way when an enraged Clegane reached across once more. Accepting his punishment for allowing his family to die on his watch, Jaime thought it was fitting that he would be killed by his sister’s protector. He felt the cold dead hands grab him around the neck. Resigned to his fate, he did not even make a sound when they began to squeeze.

Shocked, Brienne watched all this unfold before her. Quickly snapping out of it, she yelled, “NO!” Unthinking of the risk, she slid down the metal pole and then down the side of the roof. She was going too fast, and she could not stop in time.

Releasing one hand from Jaime’s throat, the creature grabbed her before she could fall off the roof to her death.

Using Gregor’s hand as an anchor, Brienne pulled herself until she was right next to them. Seeing Jaime’s reddening features, she yelled desperately, “STOP THIS!” 

Still, the creature would not release his grip around Jaime’s neck. 

Calming her nerves that urged her to panic, Brienne commanded, “You must protect the ones who rule. He is my fiancé, soon to be King. You overheard us exchange marital pledges in Pycelle’s office, so you know it is true. By your vow, you cannot touch him.”

The creature seemed torn, unsure of its duty any more, and it relaxed his grip around Jaime’s neck. Jaime took deep gasping breaths. 

Seeing her chance, Brienne turned her attention to Jaime. Even this close, she had to yell to be heard over the pounding rainwater. “And damn-it, Jaime. You had no control over Cersei’s death; she was the one who decided to kill your son and herself. You did everything in your power to protect them, all of them.” He glanced away ashamed. Seeing him eye the edge of the roof, she feared he would jump to his death from the guilt. She pleaded, “I need you to want to live.” Brienne sobbed, worried she had lost him forever, once more to his sister. “Please, you can’t die. I need you!” 

Maneuvering closer to him, she cupped Jaime’s cheek and turned him to face her. Her long fingers gently wiped away the salty tears that mixed with the falling rain, “Please let go of the guilt and live for me, Jaime.”

Jaime’s haunted gaze suddenly stared at Brienne as he comprehended what she had said, and the hardness there seemed to soften somewhat. His deep, shuddering exhale seemed to release most of the tension and sorrow that he had carried for so long. A smile then quirked his lips, and he husked reverently to her, “As my Queen commands, I shall obey.” 

Brienne was relieved that once more his eyes reflected the strength that she was so used to. Seeing that her words had finally broken through his guilt, Brienne released her hold on him. 

Grinning, Jaime realized that he had not felt this free in ages. He had the sudden urge to laugh and then kiss Brienne senseless. Instead, he yanked his neck out of Gregor’s slack hold. He saw its red eyes stare at him in confusion.

Brienne grabbed Jaime’s golden hand and then nodded to the creature to include it. “Jaime, promise that you will look after me.”

Swallowing loudly, it took more than once for him to say, “I promise that I will protect you with my life.” 

Brienne focused on Clegane’s wistful gaze, “Gregor, you have done your duty admirably and have kept me alive. But it is alright for you to move on now. We will look after one another. You heard us in Pycelle’s office, so you know how deeply we feel for each other.” 

Sadness mixed with hope and it growled to Jaime, “Protect Queen.” It was stated not as a threat, but as a promise.

“I will,” Jaime vowed.

Brienne squeezed Jaime’s arm. “We will protect each other.” 

Nodding in acceptance, the creature appeared lighter in spirit, almost human once more. Sighing, it looked to the stormy heavens and then to Brienne, “Want peace.”

Smiling gently, Brienne understood its wishes. Once more focusing on the creature, she regally stated, “Gregor Clegane, you are freed from your oath of service.” 

Nothing happened. Gregor did not become stone or even dust. It just stared at her questioningly. Brienne turned to ask Jaime for any suggestions when the air around them seemed to change. Brienne started to wonder if maybe the Gods had finally answered her plea to release Gregor after all.

Suddenly, a crackling noise from above raced towards them. Brienne felt the short hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Gregor must have sensed the sudden change too, for it looked up sharply. A lightning bolt was spiking right at them.

The creature had failed to save its beloved Cersei, but at least it could fulfill its oath one last time.

Knowing they would never escape in time without injury, the creature turned to Jaime and Brienne.

Panicking, they began to scramble backward, but it would be too late for them. Without thinking, the creature wrenched Jaime’s metal hand free while at the same time shoving Jaime and Brienne off the roof. 

As they fell, Brienne saw the creature raise the golden hand in the air. The lightning was attracted to the conductive metal instead of them, and the bolt slammed into it.

The jagged energy lanced through the golden hand. The electrical charge continued its course and arced through the creature’s body. Instantly it raced through to Bronn’s prized sword that was still embedded in its back. With the circuit completed, a bright halo of light encompassed the creature.

His large frame shook violently as electricity crackled around him. His mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out.

With nowhere to escape to, the energy quickly built up more and more. Alas, Gregor’s body was not made to withstand such extreme stress, and he suddenly exploded. 

After Jaime and Brienne had crashed onto the stone floor of the parapet, they stared up to see Gregor’s final act of valor. Quickly, they covered their eyes for the flareup was so bright. When Gregor exploded, they shielded one another, but nothing fell on them. 

The intense blast of power had obliterated all of Gregor. There was not even any blood, nothing to show that he had ever existed except for a dark patch of grease on the tiled roof. And even that was quickly washed away by the deluge of rainwater.

Stunned, Jaime and Brienne looked at each other in surprise. Then realizing that it was all over, both began laughing. Brienne wondered if the shock had overcome them. 

Jaime tightly grasped her arm, pulling her until they were face to face. “You are insane, but I love you.” And he planted a lingering kiss upon her lips.

Drawing back, Brienne smiled and said to Jaime, “I was not kidding about marrying you, Jaime. Of making you, my King.”

A smug Jaime shrugged, “But I am to be the Hand.”

Now it was her turn to be smug. “You can be both. And I shall rule, and you can look after our children.”

Jaime grinned pleased, liking the sound of their offspring scampering about the Keep, “Oh?”

Once more Brienne’s voice became imperious, “Yes, and you have to do as I command.”

His gaze smoldered as he focused only on her, “Anything my Queen asks of me, is hers.”

She regally commanded, “Then kisses. I demand many kisses.” 

As the stunned guards crowded around them, Jaime leaned in and once more they passionately kissed.

While Podrick laughed merrily, Bronn sniped at the couple, “It took you two long enough.” 

Looking up, Bronn noticed that the storm seemed to be abating to a gentle rain, and he sighed in relief. 

Still being ignored, Bronn put his hands on his hips, and groused, “Alright, once you two come up for air, we have some things to talk about. I want two castles, an estate, and a new sword.”

Uncaring of what was going on around them, the royal couple continued to kiss. Both felt more alive than they ever had before. And though ruling the Kingdom would be difficult, they knew they would never have to face it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I hope Gregor's motivation (and Jaime's resolution towards his ghosts) worked. 
> 
> Just one more chapter to go. I will try to publish that next Monday, but it might take a bit longer than usual. Sorry about that!
> 
> And a big sorry shout out regarding replying to everyone's wonderful comments from the last chapter. I wanted to, but have run out of time and must jet. I should be able to respond either tomorrow or the next day.
> 
> But thanks again, so much. You all have really helped motivate me to finish this. I really appreciate people taking the time to comment. You guys have been amazing. I said it before, but this is such a great fandom!


	22. Chapter 22

After assuring everyone that she was alright, Queen Brienne decided not to wait until the morrow to announce her newest proclamations to the public. She figured that since the land wanted a tough ruler, she would prove to them that even being kidnapped by the undead and nearly being fried by lightning could not stop her. 

But honestly, she wanted to forsake all this and instead sleep for a week next to the man of her dreams. Alas, she knew she would have dwelled on the current issues during this when she should have been focusing on other things, or actually a certain someone.

As the Throne Room began to fill with her constituents, she surveyed the crowd before her from her iron perch. She was surprised to see that more gentry had stayed in the Keep than she had initially thought would have. A short time ago, a murderer had been targeting the nobility, and she believed most would have run back home from this perceived threat. Now most of them cast a suspicious eye at Jaime, but all tried to appear cavalier around the suspected killer.

A steel-eyed Jaime stood next to her seated form. Once more he was her protective knight, and his gaze constantly scanned the growing crowd. Between him and the sheathed Oathkeeper that hung from the side of the throne, Brienne was ready for anyone who dared try to take the crown away from her again.

Brienne did not want to admit that she was a bit peeved that none of the nobility had bothered to make sure she was alright while the coup was going on and took perverse pleasure in forcing them to attend her before dinner. Couple that with the rumors that had been swirling around regarding what happened recently on the ramparts, the suspense was hopefully eating at them.

Spying the last ones to enter, Brienne was relieved to see Beatrice and her son join the servants in the back and she smiled at them. Beatrice grinned back. Thankfully, both she and her son did not look too worse for wear.

Internally sighing, Brienne figured she might as well get things going. To prove that she was not going to be one of those long-winded rulers, she got right to the crux of it.

From the imposing Iron Throne, Brienne imperiously stared down at her people. Her voice was firm when she regally stated, “First things first. I wanted all of you present to witness the following. I have asked Lord Jaime Lannister to be my Hand.” 

All before her reacted stunned. Ignoring their gaping mouths, Brienne stood and turned to face the man who commanded her heart. She grinned at Jaime who winked back, and she barely held in her laugh of triumph. She had finally gotten everything that she had promised herself after her perilous time up North and she felt elated. It had been a tough journey, but gazing into Jaime’s loving eyes, she knew it had been worth it.

As she pinned the signet of the Hand to his tunic breast, Brienne heard those below grumbling. She was not surprised when the murmurs rose. Making out some of the words, she was not pleased with their disrespect.   
Turning to face them, she snapped, “I am your Queen, and as such, my word is final. Lord Jaime has shown loyalty and bravery while others hid.” She let her words sink in and was pleased that some of the gentries showed embarrassment at not doing anything to help her. 

Brienne continued coolly, “And his decisive action had saved my life tonight, and quite possibly all of yours. I will only say this once, he did not murder those men and has been cleared of any wrongdoing.”

The crowd sneered, but at least the derisive whispers had become low, thus manageable. Brienne knew this was going to take some work to convince all of them that the choice had been right, and that included being their Queen. 

At least she had learned a few things under the tutelage of the old council. She knew that the nobility wanted blood, so it was best to feed them. Hopefully what she had to offer would satiate their hunger. 

Sitting back down, Brienne nodded majestically to her Hand, “Lord Jaime if you would be so kind to start the proceedings.”

Formally bowing, Jaime stated, “As my Queen commands.” He made sure that his voice rang through the chambers. When he was done, all those present would show the Queen the proper respect befitting her station, or he would personally beat them all within an inch of their lives.

Pivoting, Jaime called out, “Guards, bring in the prisoners.”

The murmurs among the crowd suddenly hushed when Baelish, Olenna, Mace, and Loras entered the chambers and were escorted to the front of the dais. 

Brienne’s blue eyes seemed unnaturally cold when she gazed upon those who had attempted to usurp her power.

Judging the guilty party in front of her also brought up a pressing concern. She no longer had a council to help her make decisions. When she had time, she planned to send invites to the North as well as throughout all of Westeros. She also hoped that someone from Dorne would accept her summons.

Those studying the Queen’s frosty demeanor mumbled to one another.

Jaime’s sharp glare took in the four at their feet. All appeared contrite, except for Lord Baelish who acted as if he owned the place. Jaime’s barely concealed outrage was still noticeable, “You stand before your Queen and your peers, accused of traitorous actions against the Crown. Not only did you hamper my investigation into catching the real killer, thus risking all present, but you used your political positions to try to usurp the throne.”

All gasped as the rumors of treachery were confirmed. Most had heard that something big had happened behind the scenes, but few knew the truth of the goings-on.

The Tyrell’s smartly kept quiet, while Littlefinger had no choice. He continuously rubbed at his throat as if he wanted to talk. Alas, Robert the Strong had done a lot of damage to his vocal cords when he strangled Baelish, and he could only get a word out here and there. If he tried to push it, he would develop a hacking fit that left him blue in the face.

The Hand’s furious gaze bored into each of theirs. “Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lord Mace Tyrell, and Lord Petyr Baelish. Your traitorous actions to remove the Queen should have you all executed. But the Queen does not want to start her reign by beheading you. It is noted that in the past, you have helped the realm in your own ways. And since the Queen will grant you leniency, a different sort of an example must be made.” 

While their wounds were being tended to by the Maester, Jaime had argued against Brienne’s wish for mercy. He believed that all three of the councilmembers should be put under the ax. But Brienne was very adamant that she did not wish to spill blood on her first day as the ruling monarch. 

She reasoned that though many disliked the influential councilmembers, they still had a few powerful supporters. Kill those three, and they would become martyrs that could be used against her by these allies. Why turn them into a cause to oust her when embarrassing the nobility worked so much better. 

To Brienne it seemed that the noble Houses always cared more for titles and the perception of power, so her punishment should make any think twice. Honestly, who wanted to be impoverished in this climate. Without lands and money, they would have no one to turn to. She doubted those that were used to such an opulent lifestyle would do well in the wilds of the Riverlands. 

Brienne wanted to push her own agenda. She believed that an example of fairness would work better in the long run and possibly prove to all that there was strength in honor. To her, such a belief seemed to be sorely lacking in the realm.

And if that failed, there was always Oathkeeper to keep them in line.

Jaime still thought it was a mistake not to at least take a pound of flesh from each of the councilmembers. Preferably their heads.

Instead of drawing out this spectacle, Jaime nodded to the relieved Thorn of Highgarden. “Lady Olenna, you are to be stripped of all power and titles. You will retire to one of your smaller estates for the remainder of your life. A small stipend will be allocated each month so that you may keep on a servant.” His eyes became hard as the stone walls that surrounded them. “If we hear of any interference from you, your pardon will be revoked, and you will be put under the ax. Understand?”

The older woman curtly bobbed her head. Solemnly, she looked to Brienne, her voice resigned, “I thank you for your leniency, your Grace.” She meant it too. She knew she had barely gotten away with her life.

Sighing tiredly, Olenna realized that she was ready to retire. After witnessing the reanimated limb of Robert the Strong, she believed that maybe this changing world was not for her anymore after all.

When Margaery died, Olenna had felt this compulsion to gather as much power as possible before her own time was up. She knew that she was now the only one left in the family who cared what the Tyrell’s place in the world was. Alas, she had played the end game and had lost, and now it would take years for them to get back into a position of power. Her granddaughter was the only one who truly understood the tenuous hold the Tyrell’s had, but with her now gone, Olenna did not care much anymore.

Honestly, she was getting too old for this shit. It seemed that it had all become a young person’s game anyway and a fossil like her understood it was best to step aside and let others run things. 

She looked over to the proud Loras and thought that at least her grandson seemed happy.

The Thorn would go gently into the night. Unlike Littlefinger who sneered at the royal couple.

Olenna stated kindly, “I hope the Queen could someday forgive this old fool.” She had a feeling her initial respect of Lady Brienne; now the Queen had not been misplaced. Maybe this ‘singular’ individual who now sat on the Iron Throne was the right choice to rule after all. She sincerely hoped the realm would be better for it. 

The new Queen had undoubtedly proven herself. Not only had Brienne come out on top of the coup but had bested two very experienced and crafty councilmembers.

Olenna straightened when Jaime’s hard glare now focused on her son, “Lord Mace, you will now oversee the running of Highgarden.” 

Jaime was pleased to see the ordinarily slothful man flinch. It was the perfect punishment for such a lazy individual. With his mother no longer there to make all the decisions, he would not be able to shirk his responsibilities. Not only would he have to attend all the meetings, but he would be forced to stay awake through them and make decisions. Brienne and Jaime did not think he would last long.

Jaime’s voice held a slight mocking air to it, “If you fail at your duties, Highgarden would be absorbed into House Tarly. They in turn would then become the regional capital of the Reach with Dickon Tarly becoming the liege lord. Thus, you would forfeit everything, including your title, and Highgarden will never be accepted as a legitimate House again.”

As Jaime let that sink in, Mace recoiled in fear. Satisfied that this was having the desired effect, Jaime continued, “So, without money, you would become indentured servant and forced to work the land for the crops that are needed for the upcoming winter. And if you refused to do that, you will be sold into slavery overseas. And from what I hear, in Essos they would not put up with such lazy behavior. Do I make myself clear?”

The horrified Mace shivered at the image of his future and quickly bobbed his head that he understood. Olenna’s cane smacked his shin, and his voice stuttered, “Thank you, your Grace.”

Olenna sighed in relief. She was grateful that her son had been spared. She was tired of her family being killed. Nothing was worse than outliving your children. And at least they still had Highgarden. But that meant that her nincompoop son would have to run it. The Thorn suddenly had a distaste in her mouth and grimaced at the thought that they might lose what had been in their family for so long.

“That just leaves the last Tyrell.” Jaime nodded to the Knight of the Flowers. After a curt bob of the head, Loras marched closer to the front of the dais. Never once did he look to his family, his focus only on Jaime and the Queen.

Jaime continued, “Loras, unlike your family, you showed courage and the will to sacrifice yourself to save the Queen. Though it saddens us that Captain Starling no longer wishes to be Lord Commander of the Queensguard, you have shown an interest in doing so.”

Loras stood proudly, “It would be my honor to serve the Queen in such a manner.” And he formally bowed to Brienne. 

Smiling, Brienne said, “Thank you, Lord Commander. Please take your place by my side.”

Loras grinned back and did as she commanded. His hand rested on the pommel of his blade, now watching for any trouble.

Some onlookers studied Captain Starling to see if he appeared affronted at such a demotion. What they saw was a relieved man who desperately wanted to get back to the simplicity of being a soldier and away from court intrigue. Earlier, he had admitted to the Queen that though he found being Commander of the Queensguard to be honorable, the politics was just not for him.

He preferred the predictable of battle to dealing with the nobility. And it seemed that half his men agreed with him and would leave back to the field when he did. Those that stayed behind had proven themselves and thus would be once more absorbed into the sacred guard as true knights. Loras would then hand pick to fill in the missing ranks.

Jaime glared down at the traitor Littlefinger, who mockingly smiled up at the Queen’s Hand, daring Jaime to try anything against him. Jaime seethed, “And that just leaves you, Lord Baelish. You are to be exiled to the Eyrie and are never to leave it again. Robin Arryn will oversee the Vale and anything that the people needed there.” Neither of Brienne nor Jaime feared that Baelish would be in power again, the man had no voice to use.

All Littlefinger could do was scowl at the Hand and the Queen. Without his ability to muster more than a word here and there, Baelish knew he had lost any chance of control. His vocal cords had been too damaged, said the Maester. Anytime he pushed it; he would soon cough and wheeze terribly. He sneered, his one weapon had been taken away from him by a walking corpse. 

So much for the turn of a clever phrase.

He could not lose his only tool to get through court life. For once he wished he had studied the sharpness of the blade, and not relied on the quickness of his tongue.

Littlefinger nearly surpassed Brienne when it came to obstinacy. Still tried to voice his objections. Alas, all he could get out was the raspy word, “No…” but he, of course, kept trying. He had worked too hard to get where he was and soon found himself breathless. Begrudgingly, he would just have to rely on others to fight his battles, and he glanced at his allies.

He heard his few supporters yell their opposition to his punishment. Some even called out that he was still the rightful Hand and that the Queen was obligated to stick to the contract that she had signed to make him such.

Before Jaime could say anything, Queen Brienne smiled toothily, and it was not pleasant. “I hear what you are saying, but you must admit that communication is needed to properly do one’s job as my Hand.” 

She was right but seeing the potential benefits with Littlefinger in such a high profiled job dissipating, they once more protested. Brienne had a feeling this might happen, and her fingers twitched to touch the reassuring hilt of Oathkeeper.

As their protests rose, Brienne and Jaime were getting tired of the falsehoods and bravado yelled at them. They were about to try the more traditional means of communication when others came forward to support the Queen. It seemed that more had been tricked or blackmailed over the years by Littlefinger, and they saw a means of freedom away from his tyranny. 

Brienne’s new backers overwhelmingly shouted down those that opposed her. Once her critiques were finally quiet, the majority of the nobles smiled. They did not think it prudent to laugh in Baelish’s face, but their spirits were lifted.

Jaime and Brienne exchanged a smirk at such boisterous support aimed their way from the crowd. It seemed that the bloodthirsty crowd was no longer disappointed that no one had lost their heads. Thankfully, the irony that the two very influential councilmembers were now powerless had appeased them.

With most of the crowd on their side, Jaime was finally able to relax. His tone sounded confident as he once more focused on the three before them, “Your sentences are to be carried out immediately.” After a nod from him, the prisoners were led out of the chambers. 

His gaze once more swept the room, but this time, he was jubilant, “Now with the punishment given, it is time to honor those who bravely supported their Queen at this most dangerous of times.”

Jaime coughed delicately, and then his voice rang out, “Ser Bronn of Blackwater, please step forward.” He saw Bronn’s smug grin a mile away as the older man sauntered forward and Jaime internally groaned. He had been afraid of this and knew he would never hear the end of it. But then his friend had stood by his side when he could have quickly done otherwise. 

Jaime looked at Brienne, and she nodded. It was time for her to take over the proceedings. “Ser Bronn, for your valor in this time of danger, you will be granted the Castle Dragonstone.” Bronn’s smirk became a wide grin. Brienne wondered why he thought he would get this without a price attached. He would now learn never to underestimate her. She continued, “That would make you the Warden of the East with the title of Lord of the Stormlands.” Bronn’s smile faltered at the thought of all the work that position would entail. 

Brienne smiled pleasantly, “And I would also like you to join my new council as the Master of Coin. We could use your expertise, and I have a feeling that all debts would get promptly paid if you were in charge.” Bronn’s knowing smirk matched her own. 

Bronn looked as if he was going to ask for more when Jaime delicately coughed, “As for your other request, we will talk of that in private.” Jaime had a few ideas regarding a proper lady for Bronn to marry. But by the looks of appreciation aimed Bronn’s way from some highly eligible young noblewoman in the crowd, he just might receive a few proposals before the day was over.

Bronn nodded slyly, understanding the delicate position they were in. No woman approved of being openly used as a bargaining chip. “I accept your terms, your Grace.”

With Bronn’s fortunes situated, something more important pressed on Brienne’s conscience. Clearing her throat, Brienne said, “I have been very remiss regarding the following. This has been put off for far too long. Podrick Payne, please step forward.”

Surprised, a frowning Pod limped over and gazed up at her from the eye that was not patched with the makeshift bandage. Standing two steps below her, Pod nervously swiped at his bloody and wrinkled tunic.

Brienne smiled pleasantly to allay his fears, “Podrick Payne, you have stood by my side for many years and have proven yourself worthy of every accolade that I never but should have voiced out loud. It is time for me to do this formally.” 

Bronn understood what was about to happen, and grinned. He nudged Pod to bend to one knee, “Go on, do it.”

Pain forgotten, Pod dropped to one knee.

Brienne stood and drew Oathkeeper from its sheath. Carefully she lowered it to her squire’s shoulders. He was not the only one shaking in apprehension. Brienne had never done this before and feared doing it wrong. Then she remembered that she was the Queen, so she confidently stated, “I dubbed the Ser Podrick Payne. You are to be given all honors and rights of a knight. Also, I would be grateful if you would join me on my council.” 

Pod stared at her in awe and then nodded quickly. It had been years since he had last stuttered, but this stress brought it back. “Th-thank you, your Grace.” His voice then became strong, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears of joy, “It was my honor to serve you then as it is now.” From his kneeling position, he formally bowed to her in reverence.

Brienne smiled in reply, and overheard Bronn say, “That’s my boy.”

She was pleased that Podrick had someone, even as dubious as Bronn, looking out for him. As Pod stood and got clapped soundly on the back by Bronn, Brienne turned her attention back to the crowd.

There was still much left to take care of, so she then called out, “Would the royal seamstress Beatrice and her son Fredryk please step forward.” Curious, the older woman and her son came over. Beatrice curtseyed and the tall, lanky boy by her side bowed to the Queen.

Once they were looking at her again, Brienne leaned over and placed a medal over each of their heads. They looked at her in shock when they realized that they had both been given the civilian medal for bravery. “My friends, even with threats upon you, you helped me when few others would have dared. Please tell me what you wish for, and you will receive it.”

Beatrice tilted her head to the side in thought. “I wouldn’t mind having quarters closer to my office.”

The Queen smiled gently, “Wouldn’t you prefer a castle of your own?”

The seamstress adamantly shook her head. “That is very kind of you, your Grace. But I love what I do and thus do not have need of anything else.”

“Then new chambers are what you shall have.” Brienne was already thinking of giving the woman Baelish’s old apartments.

Brienne then stared down at Beatrice’s young son. “And you Fredryk, what would you like as your reward?”

The young boy’s enthusiasm overtook any reverence aimed at the Queen, “I want to be a knight!”

Smiling, Brienne nodded. “Training can be easily arranged. And I am sure that you will excel at it and will become a proper knight before long. Maybe then you might want to join my Queensguard.” Fredryk stood up taller, and his mother looked at him proudly. 

As her friends moved to the side, Brienne once more sat down. She then focused on the crowd and nodded to Captain Starling and the men who stood behind him. “Please step forward my honored Captain and his guards.”

Captain Starling smartly marched up to her with the men who remained in his group. Brienne was sad to see him go but understood that all were not made to serve the Queen in such an astute fashion. She did not blame them for wanting to go back to their old positions and wondered if they would have room for her and Jaime should the whole ruling thing not work out.

“For your bravery, all of you are granted knighthood.” Regardless that they planned on leaving, she owed them much and wanted to reward them justly for all their loyalty and support. She would genuinely miss them. 

As for those who died while fighting Gregor, they would be honored posthumously, and their families would be given the rich stipend that one would normally receive when a knight was killed in the line of duty.

“Thank you, my Queen.” Dismissed, Captain Starling bowed and turned smartly on his heel; and he led his group back to where they had once stood.

Once more she looked among her constituents, gauging their mood. They seemed to be anticipating something big, and the murmurs renewed.

She hoped not to disappoint them. “I promise that we are almost done here. Now, some of you might be wondering about the position of King. I know that it had been expected that I was to marry Loras Tyrell. With him now the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, I cannot. But I want to assure you that I have made my choice and a new King will be sitting beside me soon.”

The nobility eagerly watched. The rumor mill had been in full swing. Most already knew that the Tyrell’s were in trouble which meant that Loras was out of the running as the Queen’s suitor.

Brienne noticed that the Lord Pompous from Pyle straightened his gaudy embroidered tunic and began to saunter forward.

The Queen’s strident voice cut through the man’s boldness as did her glare, “Lord Jaime will become my husband as well.” To save face, the approaching Lord quickly angled for the exit as if that was what he had planned to do from the beginning.

Soon, the scoffing noises and murmurs of concern that Jaime would become too powerful since he was going be both Hands to the Queen and her husband, the King, was heard. 

Before any could openly question her decision, Brienne stood, towering over all. Her gaze drifted across the sea of nobles and servants alike and her tone brook no favor, “Since I am the start of a new dynasty, I feel I have the right to break tradition and take a husband who will share power with me. It would have been that way with anyone I was to marry. This Kingdom has been through a lot, and it will take two of us jointly ruling to fix it properly. And if any think they have a right to stop me, we can settle this now, the old way.” She glanced at the formidable blade of Oathkeeper, and all knew that the days of influencing the monarchy was over.

Gauging their sullen expression, Brienne had a feeling that her final order of the day was not going to be well received either. That was just tough on those who would balk at her new decrees. Times were changing and if she had to drag everyone kicking and screaming along with her, then so be it.

Cautiously, she sat down on the padded seat of the sword throne and winced as a sharp edge nicked her thigh. Jaime grinned at her grunt of disapproval.

Resolute she stated, “This throne has been a symbol of the old monarchy, of a time when war ruled the land, and the only thing that mattered was power for the few. I feel that since we are headed towards peaceful times, it sets a bad example and needs to be gone. I want this throne melted down and made into plow shears, into the tools that will help bring in the golden era of this kingdom.”

The crowd was stunned, and then the outraged voices of those who wished to live in the past erupted below her. Loras signaled the guard, and they came forward in case the rabble wanted to follow through on their verbal threats. None dared though. 

Honestly, Brienne did not care what the few thought, she was Queen after all. She knew that it would be difficult in the beginning to get everyone on the same path, but she was stubborn enough to eventually get her way.

Her voice became kind, but there was a hint of strength as well, “In the beginning, this will be hard on everyone, but I vow to you that we will come out better for it. We were once a country that prospered, but war and greed have ruined this land. On my honor, it will not only be like the days of old once more, but we will surpass them. Alas, sacrifices will have to be made first.” The servants were pleased with the news, but not all the nobility was reassured. She was not surprised; not everyone was going to like her new policies.

Deciding she had pushed them far enough, she decreed, “I thank all of you for attending my first day as your Queen. To culminate this auspicious day, a celebration to mark the start of my reign begins now. I hope it will last an entire week, if not longer.” Most of the gentries laughed and nodded their approval. Brienne’s voice rose to be heard over the buzz of the crowd, “Bring out drinks and food. Begin the music.” And the disquiet dissipated as cups were filled with wine. 

As the nobles drank, they heard the sound of bells that signified Brienne’s official rule as Queen had begun.

Taking her soon to be husband’s arm, the Brienne and Jaime walked around the chamber, listening to the people’s problems and promising that all would work out in the end. Thankfully, it seemed that most were willing to give this new reign a chance. The few that did not would be watched to make sure that they did not try anything.

When the royal couple had finished reassuring those present as best as possible, Brienne grabbed Jaime’s hand and told the crowd, “Please excuse us, it has been a long day and my soon to be husband and I are rather tired. But please continue to have fun.” As the masses gapped, the royal couple dashed from the room back to her chambers. They did not reappear for a week.

 

EPILOGUE

Two years later, Brienne and Jaime sat on their dual thrones as they listened to grievances and tried to do what was best for the people. The ever-vigilant Loras stood close by, continuously keeping an eye on any possible problems. He needn’t worry. Much had already changed for the realm, mostly for the better. And if the few dissidents did try anything, the royal couple could easily look after themselves.

The old Iron Throne had been replaced and had made many plow shears for the multitude of farms that had sprung up throughout the land. The current royal thrones were not ostentatious, for it was those seated that were formidable, not the symbol that they rested upon. As usual, they were not dressed in finery and only the gold crowns that they wore signified their status. 

Brienne would typically wear trousers and a tunic, often matching her husband’s attire. But lately, she had to wear a dress because her belly was getting larger. 

The new Maester, Samwell Tarly had said with joy that they royal couple would be expecting their first child in a few months. 

The realm rejoiced at this news for their Queen and King had been kind to all. Under their rule, the country had significantly benefited and most prospered. From the highborn to the lowly serf, all had been treated equally, and the Kingdom flourished because of it. 

It helped that the Queen and King truly enjoyed helping the people, and they accomplished much for they now had the power to back up their promises. 

Alas, in the beginning, it had not been so easy.

Their first year of ruling had been tumultuous for the Queen and King, for there were many difficulties that needed to be addressed urgently. So much had been neglected and the war had been devastating to the land and the people.

With everyone needing assistance immediately, it was hard at first to figure out what took precedence. It did not help that the nobility was crowing the loudest. Brienne had vowed that everyone under her rule would be treated fairly and the gentry was not too happy about that. More than once Brienne had to pull Oathkeeper free during those fiery discussions.

It took some time, but after the multitude of problems had been prioritized and taken care of, things began to get better. 

Highgarden had been supplying food to feed the starving masses for over a year now, so crime and thievery had lessened within the city. With their belly’s full and opportunities opening, farms and mills once more popped up throughout the countryside. From this, more peasants made coin, so they bought goods and services that they used to no be able to afford. 

There were still a few bands of outlaws, but Captain Starling and his men kept the bandits running and vowed that soon they would retreat too far away to be other than a minor nuisance.

The once protesting Houses now sold more wares and were making a profit. This prosperity continued and spread until in two years most of Westeros was no longer the impoverished country that it had once been.

Even King’s Landing started to smell better. Tired of the stench, Brienne had ordered the Maester’s to figure out a means to air out the city. There had to be some way to use the cool sea breezes to their advantage. After a few walls had been knocked down and trees planted, the air was fresher and depending on the season, pleasantly fragrant.

Alas, there were still some problems up North, but Brienne was in good standing with the new Warden there. Lady Sansa Stark had been most pleased with her official title as well as the troops that Queen Brienne had sent up there to assist with fortifying the Wall. Lord Commander Jon Snow was hopeful that he could keep the White Walker menace from breaching it. But things were getting tenuous as more undead joined its ranks, and it seemed that it would be only a matter of time until things became worse.

During this, it was not just the land that had changed, but also Brienne and Jaime had as well. In the beginning, to get what needed to be accomplished, they had to harden their hearts. Stern rebukes and a firm hand (often a golden one) had to be used to get most to accept what was best for all. As issues were worked out and pressures lifted, the usual forcefulness and stubbornness eventually became compromise and kindness. 

Over time, the people began to refer to the Queen as Brienne the Beauty, for though she was fair of face, they only saw the benevolent soul and pure heart of their sovereign. Her love and generosity toward all had become legendary. 

In the beginning, a strong Hand and King was needed, and Jaime proved to be fair yet strict with justice. Soon he was known as Golden Hand the Just.

Ser Podrick continued to serve Brienne and became a vociferous council member in support of all people. Bronn was the opposite when it came to being the Master of Coin. His reputation as a shrewd negotiator convinced many to pay what the Crown was owed and quickly. Nothing was scarier than the usually loquacious Bronn suddenly becoming monosyllabic.

As for the past disgraced councilmembers, out of all of them, surprisingly it was Mace who was the one that thrived. So far, Highgarden continued to supply the citizens with much-needed food for the Winter, that dreaded season seemed to be getting closer and closer. Anything that could be stored for later use was, but the monarchs feared it would never be enough.

Not surprisingly, Olenna passed away soon after being exiled. Some suspected she had taken her own life via poison. And though the Thorn had been part of the attempted coup, Brienne always had a soft spot for the one who had called her ‘singular.’

As for Littlefinger, he had a less than auspicious fate. A year after his sentence, the royal couple had heard the news that Lord Baelish of the Vale had jumped from the Moon Door. Rumor had it that the proud Lord had been pushed by one his less than gracious ally’s, even possibly by Robin Arryn himself.

Jaime and Brienne thought it had been too easy of a death for him.

As for the Queen and King, they had married sooner than Spring and had honeymooned in Tarth. Brienne’s ailing father was thrilled to see her. And that might have been why he had lived longer than what the Maester’s had initially said he would have. Sadly, he had passed earlier this year. Already Brienne and Jaime had decided that their first child would be named Selwyn. Though Jaime joked, if it was a girl, they could call her Selwyna.

Things were going well for the realm as the royal couple continued to find their footing. It was not all wonderful being Queen and King of the realm and there were still many challenges ahead of them. But as usual, they took it in stride, knowing that they had each other to rely on when times were difficult.

Which was good, because word has just come down from the North that the White Walkers had breached the Wall and that dragons had been seen in Essos. And there was even grumbling coming from down south in Dorne.  
While they were dealing with all that, a certain emissary of the Dragon Queen arrived on their shores one blustery afternoon and everything once more changed.

But that was another story for another time.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you so much for your patience regarding this final chapter being published. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> I also want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for all the supportive comments and kudos. They really helped get this story finished and make it what it is. It has been such a joy to write and a wonderful project to work on. THANK YOU!!!!
> 
> It is bittersweet to finish this, but it also feels good ;- )
> 
> My next project will take a while to finish (a story for Agent Carter that I have put off far too long), but then I should be back to writing the Lannister Legacy’s third part. I hope to have something published by the winter, fingers crossed.
> 
> In the meantime, I look forward to catching up on all the amazing fanfic out there. 
> 
> Thanks again for to everyone for everything. This is truly one of the best fandoms out there! Until next time.


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